


Breach

by tastethewaste



Series: Breach [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Chubby Harry Potter, Doctor/Patient, Dubious Ethics, F/M, Food Kink, Healer Draco Malfoy, Infidelity, M/M, Medical Examination, Sexual Tension, Situational Humiliation, Weight Gain, Weight Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-02-27 01:11:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 29,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18728650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastethewaste/pseuds/tastethewaste
Summary: Harry's put on some weight, and when Ginny urges him to slim down and see a doctor, the person who's supposed to help might end up hindering instead...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure how many chapters this fic will have, but as of now it's a WIP. If weight kink isn't your thing, you probably won't care for this. Also, lots of dubious medical ethics in this one, now and in future, so if that's a squick for you, I would avoid it. Thanks for reading :) Comments and such are appreciated.

“Oh, _Merlin’s saggy tit!_ ” Harry muttered furiously under his breath as he yanked the sides of his trousers together, trying in vain to force the insufferable button into its necessary hole. Panting heavily, he finally let go and dropped his arms to his side. Staring into the full length mirror in front of him, he realized there were small beads of sweat forming on his forehead, and he conceded that maybe, just maybe, it shouldn’t take so much effort to simply get dressed. 

He fiddled with the button- _the sodding useless button_ , he groused in his mind- and stared at the wide space between both sides of his trousers. _I just bought these from Madame Malkin’s...what, three months ago? They can’t be too small,_ he thought to himself, doing the mental calculations of when his last trip to Diagon Alley had been. _Yes, three months ago. Ginny and I had that dinner party and she told me I had to get new clothes because of the_ incident. He shoved aside the memory of his ripped trousers. He looked at himself in the mirror. How were these too small already? 

He suddenly saw a flash of Ginny’s bright red hair in the mirror behind him.

“We have to leave for my parents’ house any minute, the kids are all ready. What’s the hold up?” Ginny asked, in a mildly impatient voice. 

Reluctantly, Harry turned around. She took in his unbuttoned trousers; it was all too clear, just by looking at him, what was taking him so long to get ready. She made a soft, sympathetic noise, and removed her wand from her back pocket; she muttered an incantation and Harry felt his trousers loosen. He looked down, briefly noticing that he could no longer see his feet, and forced the sides of his trousers together; the button slipped into the hole, barely. 

“Thanks, Gin,” he said quietly, reaching for the sweater his mother-in-law had knitted for him last Christmas. It clung to his stomach, showing off his rounded belly. Ginny reached out and tugged the sweater down surreptitiously so it covered him all the way, but it just fit. _Just._

Harry felt a flush creep into his face. He turned from his wife and crossed to their bathroom, reaching for his hairbrush.

“Harry, I...I’m concerned,” Ginny said stiffly. 

Harry pretended he didn’t hear her, raking his hairbrush through his mess of hair. He felt Ginny’s hand settle on his shoulder, and he closed his eyes and turned to face her again. 

“Nothing to be concerned about, Gin, everything’s fine.”

“We’ve been pretending that everything’s fine, Harry, but there’s a...big...problem,” Ginny said, chewing softly on her lower lip. It was her nervous habit, a sign to Harry that this was not a spur-of-the-moment conversation; she’d clearly been mulling this over for a moment, and was feeling some anxiety about it. 

“What might that be?” He asked innocently. If she was going to bring this up, if she was going to speak this problem into existence, she was going to have to be the one to literally _speak it into existence._

“Oh, Harry,” Ginny sighed and cast her eyes slightly downward. “Your weight. I think it’s time we had a discussion. It’s getting a touch out of hand, don’t you think?” She grabbed his hand loosely. 

Harry’s flush from earlier returned with a vengeance, his whole face red with embarrassment. “I know I’ve put on a few pounds lately…” 

Ginny scoffed. “ _Lately?_ Honey, this has been going on for years. Since I got pregnant with James. And that was _five years_ ago.” She stopped when she saw the look on Harry’s face. “Look, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to embarrass you or make you feel bad. I love you no matter what, okay? I promise. That’s why it’s been so hard to bring this up to you, because I didn’t want you to feel bad or upset, but it’s unhealthy.”

Harry sighed. It was hard to admit to himself that he had a weight problem. He had spent-like Ginny said-years pretending that he hadn’t felt himself getting fatter. He’d dismissed his need for larger clothes as normal body changes that occur as one heads into adulthood. He had pretended that the way he gasped for breath after a flight of stairs was because he’d stopped playing Quidditch. He’d ignored the way it required more and more food to keep him sated. He’d even simply chuckled during the last holiday season when his four year old son saw him wearing a red sweater and gleefully patted his stomach, proclaiming, “Mommy, Daddy looks like Santa!” 

But he couldn’t ignore it if Ginny was presenting it to him this way. He sighed. “You’re right, I suppose. I could stand to lose a few. I’ve just been pretending that it’s been unnoticeable. I don’t know how I let this happen.” 

“Life is stressful, Harry. Having three kids under five and working as an Auror is stressful. A lot of people cope this way,” Ginny said, wrapping her arms around her husband and laying her head on his chest. After a moment, she gently rested her hand on his stomach, and he unconsciously sucked his gut in. She smiled, a touch of sadness in it. 

“You probably think I’m disgusting,” he said softly into her hair. 

“You are not, and will never be, disgusting to me,” she said firmly. “I wouldn’t even bring it up if it wasn’t so unhealthy. The kids and I need you to be around for a long time.” 

Harry inwardly sighed in mild annoyance. He could concede that he needed to lose some weight-his job was becoming more difficult with the extra pounds, and he knew he was overweight-but Ginny was being a tad dramatic. She was acting as though he would drop dead of a heart attack any moment. 

“I think you should see a Healer, honey. For a check up. It’s been a while, and he or she could even help you figure out a diet and exercise plan,” Ginny continued. 

Harry groaned. “Come on, Gin…” 

“Please? I’d feel a lot better if we had someone figure out a game plan for us, and if you got a clean bill of health.” 

“Fine. I’ll make an appointment next week, if you really want me to.”

“I really want you to. Thank you. I love you,” she said, leaning up and kissing him. “Let’s go have dinner with my parents, I’m sure the kids are out there causing a ruckus right now,” she said teasingly. 

Harry flashed a smile at his wife that he was sure ended up looking more like a grimace. The last thing he wanted was to have dinner at his in-laws now, but they’d made a commitment. So he gathered his children up, and Flooed to the Weasley abode. 

He tucked into his meal there, cleaning three plates full, and refused to acknowledge the delight he felt in the disapproving glances Ginny was shooting his way. 

He’d ruined his trousers by the end of the night, the button clattering uselessly to the bathroom floor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The following week, Harry was eating breakfast with his children when Ginny set a piece of paper next to his plate. He looked at it absently as he pushed a spoonful of cereal into Lily’s mouth. James and Albus were across the table, eating the same pancakes that Harry was eating.

“What’s that?” Harry asked, making a funny face at Lily, who giggled.

“I’ve made you an appointment with Healer Abernathy. He comes highly recommended. It’s for tomorrow afternoon, at 3:45. That’s your early afternoon from work, right?” Ginny asked cheerily. 

Harry looked down at the small scrap of paper, scowling at the name, address, and time. “Yes, that’s my early afternoon. Gin, I don’t know if I…”

“You promised. You told me you’d go. I think it’s important.” 

“I’ll eat better, I promise. Start exercising. I can do this by myself, I don’t need a Healer,” he said stubbornly. 

“Harry, that’s a nice sentiment but we both know it’s not true. You’ve the will power of first year at the Start-of-Term Feast. If you thought you could do it on your own, wouldn’t you have started by now, instead of eating this stuff?” Ginny gestured at the plate in front of him, the pancakes forgotten, the syrup congealing. “Promise me you’ll go. Tomorrow afternoon.” 

“I promise,” he sighed, shoving the last spoonful of cereal into Lily’s patiently waiting mouth, then finishing off his pancakes. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day, Harry found himself standing in front of a small Healer’s office outside of Muggle London. It was quaint, with potted plants of cheerful yellow flowers outside. The sign outside bore a placard, proclaiming that it was the office of HEALER ANDREW ABERNATHY, elaborating underneath that he was a Healer of GENERAL MAGICAL MEDICINE and a specialist in WEIGHT MANAGEMENT. Ginny had conveniently left out that the man was not just a general Healer. He took a deep breath, and thought about Apparating to the Leaky Cauldron on the spot. Then he remembered his promise to his wife, sighed deeply, and pushed his way in. 

Twenty minutes of paperwork later, Harry found himself facing a scale for the first time in Merlin knew how long. It had been a while, but he was surprised they didn’t just use a weight spell. This small, antiquated measure seemed symbolic to him. The moment of truth, so to speak. He looked over at the nurse, who gave him an encouraging smile. He stepped on and watched the numbers spin up, finally settling. 

“Looks like...a little over 17 stone. 17 stone and and 2 pounds,” the nurse said, making a notation in the chart. Harry sucked in his breath. 240 pounds? How was that possible? His mood turned even more sour than it had been before.

The nurse lead him to an exam room, where she performed some simple spells and notated his blood pressure and height. She asked him some simple questions about his general health, and then surprised him with “And what’s your reason for coming in today?” 

“Oh, just a check up, I suppose,” Harry said. He was going to leave it at that, and then Ginny’s disapproving face swam into his mind. “And I guess…well...myweightisaproblemtoo,” he blurted out quickly. 

“Ah, noted. Well, the Healer will be in to see you shortly!” she said brightly. 

Harry glared at her back as she flounced out of the exam room. _Where did she get off being so peachy_ , Harry thought sourly. Doesn’t she _remember_ that I’m apparently a whale? Doesn’t she _know_ that my wife is going to force me to eat boiled fish until I’m 165 pounds again? Bollocks.

He expected to have ages to mull over his angry thoughts, assuming that Healer Abernathy would take forever to arrive for his appointment. Therefore, he was very shocked when the Healer came in mere moments after the nurse had shut the exam door behind her. 

“How are we doing today, Mr……... _Potter?_ ” 

Harry was also very shocked when the Healer who came striding confidently into the room was none other than _Draco Malfoy_. 

Draco and Harry looked remarkably like fish gaping at each other, both of their jaws having dropped. They hadn’t seen each other since their belated graduation from Hogwarts, hadn’t so much as spoken a word to each other in a decade. 

Harry squirmed uncomfortably. Of course he’d run into Malfoy here, looking the way he did, while Malfoy looked...fuck, he looked good. 

“You are not Healer Abernathy!” Harry exclaimed.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Glad to see your vision hasn’t been affected by the years, Potter, although I see that _other things_ have been.” 

Harry broke into a blush, while Draco broke into a smile.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This examination is nothing like Harry had expected it would be.

“Well, you aren’t wrong, Potter, I’m not Healer Abernathy,” Draco said, his voice dripping with disdain. “Abernathy’s had a family emergency that he had to attend to, so I took over his patients for the afternoon. I certainly wouldn’t have agreed to it if I knew this was what I’d be walking into!” He waved a hand in Harry’s direction.

“When the hell did you become a Healer? And I didn’t see your name anywhere near Abernathy’s on the sign outside,” Harry said. 

“While you were busy living the domestic life and populating the earth with more tiny Potters, I was studying to become a Healer. My job here is new, they haven’t had time to affix my name to the door yet,” Draco said, flipping through Harry’s chart. “The fact that Harry Potter is my patient on my second day here, Merlin’s beard…” 

“Don’t you bother to look at charts before you come in to see the patient?” Harry asked, running his hand through his hair. 

“Typically, yes, but I was busy with the extra work and...don’t tell me how to do my job, Potter,” Draco said in a flustered voice. 

“I should just go,” Harry said, moving to slide off the exam table, but ceasing when Draco held up an elegant hand. 

“We’re not teenagers anymore Potter. I’m a more-than-competent doctor, and the fact that you’re here means you need medical assistance. Actually, the fact that you’re in this particular clinic, and the fact that I have eyes, tells me that you need medical assistance,” Draco said with an evil grin on his face. 

A cloud of anger covered Harry’s mind. “You’re going to make some fat jokes now, Malfoy?” 

Draco took a few steps closer to Harry, until he was standing right in front of him. He smelled like clean laundry, Harry realized, and his eyes weren’t so much blue as they were an icy grey. _As unkind as the years have been to my physique, that was how kind they_ have _been to Draco,_ Harry mused in his mind. 

Draco laughed. “Nothing of the sort. Weight management is my subspeciality, as I’m sure you gathered since you’re here at a clinic that specializes in, you know, weight management. Let’s get into it, then. You weigh, what, 17 stone?”

“Yeah,” Harry muttered. 

“Looks like _someone_ never learned how to say no to the treacle tart, eh?” Draco said, reaching out and pinching a generous portion of Harry’s belly. Harry squirmed and made a small noise, the pinch hurting just a bit, and raised his eyebrows, unable to believe what Malfoy had just done. He was also unable to muster up anger at whatever was going on. Not with Malfoy so close, and he couldn’t figure out why. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Draco couldn’t believe he’d just done that.

Then again, he couldn’t believe a number of things. 

He couldn’t believe that he was not only a gay Malfoy, but a gay Malfoy who preferred men of, shall we say, _size_. He came from a family of thin, arrogant, uptight people who cared more about societal expectations than anything in the world. The fact that Draco only fucked men who he could take a bite of, pun intended, puzzled him. It also excited him. 

He also couldn’t believe that he had somehow built a career out of helping fat people no longer be fat. He’d stumbled into this branch of medicine by accident, by way of his less-than-ethical intentions. In the beginning he had only been interested in general medicine, but his internship with a Healer in general medicine had led to him being assigned the case of a young man who’d gained twenty pounds after a potions mishap had left him bedridden for several months. He had come in for a diet and exercise recommendation to safely lose the weight after his injuries. Draco had done his job flawlessly-the young man had left the clinic a few months later and twenty-two pounds lighter-but damn if he hadn’t enjoyed the view when things were more to this liking. His Slytherin nature decided it wouldn’t be so bad, would it, if he helped people lose weight? No one had to know that the before images made him much happier than the afters. 

He would never do anything with a patient, of course. Ever. 

But. 

He _really_ couldn’t believe that he’d walked in on his second day of this carefully built career to find one Harry Potter on an examination table, looking uncomfortable and nervous and absolutely _rotund_. At least, in comparison to his waifish figure in their school days. 

Potter had hung his Auror robes on the coat rack in the corner, and was wearing a pair of trousers, a dress shirt and a sweater vest over the top. It was difficult to gauge while Potter was seated, but If Draco were to guess, he’d have to say the trousers were at least a size too small; he’d be more comfortable in something _two_ sizes larger, really. They were probably magically charmed to button. He couldn’t see anything under the sweater, but he assumed the buttons were straining to keep everything in. His sweater clung to his belly, so tight that Draco could see the indent of his belly button. Really, he couldn’t see how Potter could breathe in the outfit. 

It was fucking _maddening_ to look at.

Draco had always wanted to fuck Potter, even at his thinnest when they were at Hogwarts. There was something about the fact that they were enemies, something about the concept of him being a forbidden fruit, that drove Draco mad. Seeing him here, in this clinic, a whopping eighty pounds heavier than the last time he’d seen him, was like something out of his deepest unspoken desires. 

In the end, he’d been unable to resist that pinch. And that scared him a bit, because he’d only been in the room for ten minutes, and he’d already broken one of his own rules. Professional courtesy, always. He’d be out on his arse in a moment if Abernathy thought he had crossed the line with a patient. 

_Bugger it, though_ , Draco thought. Seeing Harry squirm a bit after that touch, hearing his tiny squeal of surprise, _feeling_ that soft flesh between his fingers...whatever happened to him after this, he would deal with it. 

He expected Harry to yell, throw a fit, demand to speak to a supervisor. 

Another thing Draco couldn’t believe: Harry simply looked perplexed, not angry, and damn if he no longer looked uncomfortable.

Thank Merlin for billowy Healer’s robes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Draco cleared his throat and stepped back a bit, releasing Harry’s tummy fat in the process. Harry chose to ignore whatever-the-hell that had been, and allowed Draco to continue whatever-the-hell this examination was. 

“Yeah, I like my sweets, I guess,” he muttered. 

“Can you tell me a little bit more about your general eating habits?” Draco said, in a much more polished voice than Harry had heard from him yet. 

Harry shrugged and thought to himself for a moment. “I guess I don’t eat very healthy. Lots of pancakes, sausages, traditional full English; at lunch, usually burgers or sandwiches with chips; dinner, whatever Ginny prepares, but a lot of it.” 

Draco wrote on his notepad, detailing the foods Harry ate. “Alright, how much activity do you get?” 

“Not as much as I used to. I don’t play Quidditch anymore, and I do a lot of desk work at the Ministry now, ever since, well…” Harry gestured at his belly. 

“Alright. Let’s get some measurements. Hop up,” Draco said.

Harry groaned slightly and slid off of the examination table. Draco flicked his wand and a measuring tape appeared in his hand. Harry eyed it distrustfully, and every hair on his body stood at attention as Draco slid the measuring tape around the widest part of Harry’s belly and met the two ends together. 

They were so close that Harry could’ve kissed Draco if he’d wanted to. Draco looked Harry in the eyes, and then looked down at the measuring tape to take down the number. Draco sighed a little. 

“Stop sucking your stomach in, I need an accurate number,” Draco said. 

“I’m not,” Harry said, lying through his teeth. 

Draco looked back up and locked eyes with Harry. His stare was intense, and Harry’s shallow breaths came slightly quicker.

 

Draco muttered an incantation and the measuring tape held itself in place. His hands now free, Draco set his left hand on one side of Harry’s belly. He then extended an index finger. With slight hesitation, he lightly ran the tip of his right finger along the side of Harry’s tummy, following the curve of his stomach and ending in his middle. He ever-so-gently slipped his finger underneath the magical measuring tape, tracing the outline of Harry’s belly button that came through his tight sweater. 

Harry made the same small noise he’d uttered during Draco’s pinch, with a low undercurrent of pleasure behind it. Draco closed his eyes briefly at the noise, then met Harry’s eyes again.

“Come on.” 

At Draco’s command, he hesitantly exhaled, expanding his belly to its natural state. His heart pounded in his chest as Draco left his hands on him for just a beat more, just enough to remind Harry that whatever this was, it wasn’t a normal exam. Then Draco took his pen and wrote down the measurements.

“Just a hair under thirty-nine-and-a-half inches.”

Draco took a few other measurements that were far less _intimate_ , wrote everything down, then disappeared from the room for a few moments without a word. 

Harry gripped the sides of the exam table after Draco left. _What the hell is happening?_ his brain screamed. Ginny had never touched his belly this way. He’d spent years pretending it wasn’t there, and so had she. Draco had touched his stomach like...Merlin, like he had found it _attractive_. Like it was something he wanted. Like Harry was someone _he_ wanted. 

Draco returned with two sheets of paper. 

“On this page,” he held the first sheet up, “is a 1600 calorie diet. You’re to stick to this rigidly, no exceptions. Cook _only_ the foods on this sheet, and you will lose weight, I assure you. You also need more activity, which is what this other sheet is for. Simple exercises that even your thick skull can understand. Questions?” 

Draco was all business now. There was no trace of the moment they’d just shared, just pure medical advice from a trusted Healer. Harry shook his head quickly. 

“No questions.” 

“Good. See the nurse on the way out, make an appointment for a month from now. I’ll see you then. Any questions, please reach out.” Draco shook Harry’s hand and with a swish of his robes, Draco was gone. 

Harry made his follow-up appointment and left the office, clutching the list of foods he didn’t care for and exercises he didn’t want to do in his hands. He still didn’t know what had just happened.

Thin, Pureblood Draco Malfoy lusting after Harry Potter, with his fat arse, thick belly and stretch marks? Unlikely. He shook his head, and Apparated home.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry struggles to stick to his diet, Draco struggles to stop thinking of Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is really just kind of pouring out of me, lol. I'm already working on chapter 4, hah. Thanks for the kudos and such! Appreciated.

After Harry left, Draco neatly put away the notes and Harry’s chart, and then spent another hour with his last three patients of the day. He attempted to be present in every appointment, but he couldn’t help it. His mind was stuck on Potter’s flushed cheeks, his crooked front tooth, his sheepish smile, his round arse and his _girth_. He phoned in his appearance with these patients, and made a hasty retreat afterwards.

Draco went home to his tiny flat and heated up a simple meal of leftover soup that he’d made over the weekend, cracking open a novel while he ate, forcing himself to push Potter out of his mind. He stirred the soup around his bowl, finding himself too distracted to read and _much_ too distracted to eat. After fifteen minutes of pretending he was reading and pretending he was eating, Draco set down the novel, pushed aside his bowl, and buried his face in his hands.

He had _touched Potter._ Not just touched him, in the context of a medical professional, but the way he would have touched him if they were together. He’d touched Potter the way he would have touched him if he was trying to lure Potter into the sack. 

Was that what he’d been doing?

_No,_ he thought adamantly to himself. _No, Potter is married, I am his Healer, and my job is to help him lose weight. That’s it. What happened today won’t happen again. I will be_ professional and courteous _and I will not let the fact that I want to fuck him raw get in the way of that. I will not let Potter’s belly get in the way of my career._

Draco brought his head up and found himself gnawing on his lower lip, remembering how soft Potter’s bare belly had been. How warm. He could still imagine the outline of his belly button, how he’d _ached_ to push his finger in, see how deep it went. He could imagine Potter lowering himself on top of him, feeling the pressure and the mass of him, pressing Draco into his mattress…

Draco shrugged, left his novel and soup on the table, and slipped into his room. _Bugger it,_ he thought for the second time that day, rubbing one out and thinking of nothing else but his brief time with Potter. 

It was wrong, Draco knew it. _Stupid fucking Potter and his stupid fucking married belly, being my stupid fucking patient,_ he thought furtively as he lay in bed afterwards, spent and exhausted from being driven mad with desire.He was making no sense, even in his own mind. He didn’t care. Mostly he just wondered what Potter had thought about the whole thing. He wondered what Potter had _felt_ when Draco’s own cold hands had been laid upon his tummy. Had he liked it? 

What Draco didn’t know was that while he was jerking off to the idea of his fat new patient, across town-in his small home in Godric’s Hollow that he shared with his wife and three children-Harry Potter was doing the same thing in the shower, with his thin, handsome Healer in mind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry had Apparated back home and greeted his wife with a kiss and a smile. The circumstances of his _unusual_ Healer appointment wouldn’t leave his mind, but he forced himself to be present with his family. 

“How’s my Lils?” Harry asked his small daughter, picking her up and tickling her. He then settled down on the floor with his boys, picking up a small toy replica of the Hogwarts Express and jumping into their game with them. 

Ginny was in the kitchen cooking dinner. “How’d your appointment go?” she called, trying to sound casual. 

“Oh, fine,” Harry said back, trying even more than his wife to sound casual. 

Ginny put a lid on the pot and came over to her family in the living room. “What’d Healer Abernathy say?” 

Harry crashed his toy train into James’, then looked up at Ginny. “Well, first of all, it wasn’t Healer Abernathy. It was one Healer _Malfoy_.” 

“Malfoy? As in, Draco?” Ginny asked, narrowing her eyes. 

“Oh, yes. He’s apparently become a Healer and joined that particular practice. Abernathy was gone for the day so he took over.” 

“Oh, Harry, I’m so sorry. That must’ve been...embarrassing..for you. We’ll find you a new Healer, I swear,” Ginny said sympathetically. She felt awful, as though she’d purposely sent her husband into the office of his arch-enemy. 

“No, it’s okay. I don’t need a new Healer,” Harry said quickly. “It was actually fine.” 

“So he’s grown up a bit?” Ginny asked, standing and going back to her cooking. 

“Yeah, I suppose so,” Harry said, joining her in the kitchen while the kids continued to play. “He was...professional. He gave me a list of foods to eat and exercises to do. I go back in a month.” He handed Ginny the papers Draco had given him. She looked them over carefully, and Harry could tell she was already formulating a game plan of healthy meals to feed him. 

“Brilliant! We’ll start this tomorrow. You can just have what we’re having tonight, but maybe don’t overdo it? You can still enjoy a small last supper of sorts,” she said with a playful grin, showing him the spaghetti she was cooking. 

“Looks delicious,” Harry said in a low voice, wrapping his arms around her. He gently pressed his tummy into her, more pressure than normal, practically daring her to acknowledge it. He wanted her to touch him, wanted her to do what Draco had done. _Merlin’s beard, what the fuck is wrong with me?_

She simply kissed him and stepped out of his grasp. Her face was a touch red, and he wondered at that, figuring he’d ask her later. “Dinner’s ready,” she said, going into the living room and ushering the boys to the table, buckling Lily into her high chair. 

Harry tucked into three plates of spaghetti and four slices of garlic bread, washing it down with two glasses of whole milk. Ginny simply ate from her own plate and kept to herself until they were washing the dishes together afterwards. She looked at his belly, now bloated and rounder than before from the heavy meal. He looked at her, daring her with his mind to grab him, but she simply wiped the last plate clean and stacked it into the cabinet. 

“Hope it was good,” she said, in a slightly sardonic voice, one he’d never heard from her before. 

He looked down. “I’m going to take a shower,” he said softly, and heaved himself upstairs, unknowingly following in Draco’s footsteps.

.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning Harry came downstairs to breakfast. He greeted the kids and sat down at the table, reaching his fork out to take a stack of pancakes from the middle of the table. 

“No, your meal’s all set here,” Ginny said, hurrying over and dropping a plate in front of Harry. It contained nothing a small mound of cottage cheese, a peach cut up into small slices, two slices of turkey sausage and one piece of wheat toast, dry. He looked up at Ginny helplessly. 

“The new diet?” He asked quietly, and she nodded with a sympathetic look on her face. 

“I know it’s disappointing, Harry, but think about how much better you’re going to feel soon,” she said brightly. 

_I felt a lot better yesterday with Draco,_ Harry thought sourly, but pushed the thought out of his mind. He devoured everything on his plate within five minutes, his stomach protesting that it was _still hungry,_ dammit, and drained a cup of black coffee instead. He tried to read the paper and turn his mind from food. His tiny, calorically-sensible meal had done nothing to quell his hunger; rather, it seemed to have made him _more_ hungry, somehow. 

_Draco would probably give him more food, if he was there,_ Harry thought. 

_Bollocks. Draco’s the reason you’re eating this way in the first place,_ his sensible mind spoke back. He checked his watch and headed for the door. It was time to leave for work.

“Have a good day,” he said, accepting his brown bag lunch from Ginny and kissing her on his way out. He waited until the heavy front door was closed behind him to peek inside. An apple, a dry turkey sandwich and a small bag of carrot sticks looked back at him, and he almost wailed in desolation. He was already _starving_ , and he’d been dieting for a half hour; now he was supposed to wait until noon to eat more food that wouldn’t squelch his appetite? 

He would be good, he decided. He’d get used to this, he would grow accustomed to the healthy food and the smaller portions. He smiled and Apparated off to the train station. 

By noon, he was so hungry he would’ve eaten his stapler. He tore into the brown paper bag and ate the meager food inside, licking the last remains of apple juice from his fingertips. He still had twenty-five minutes to go on his lunch break, so he figured a brisk walk couldn’t hurt. 

No one had to know about the greasy double cheeseburger he devoured in the dimly lit Leaky Cauldron. One tiny cheeseburger wouldn’t hurt things, right? 

Neither would the chocolate frogs and cauldron cakes he inhaled on the train home, he reassured himself. And certainly an extra sandwich (or two) now and again wouldn’t affect things too much, if he felt like he _really, really_ needed it. 

And thus, Harry became a regular at the shops and quick service restaurants along the way to and from work. He would eat Ginny’s healthy breakfast at home, then stop into Sweet Cream Donuts on the way to the train for a donut (or two), which he’d happily eat on the way to work. At lunch, he would eat the healthy lunch he’d been packed, then skip down to the Leaky for a cheeseburger (or two). On the way to the train home, he would stop at Grizwald’s Sandwiches for a sandwich (or two), which he would eat in secret on the way home.

He felt guilty every night when he returned home to Ginny, who positively beamed at each meal time when he finished his bowl of oatmeal or plate of chicken and broccoli. 

“I’m so proud of you for taking these steps, hon,” she’d say, kissing him long and hard, while he discreetly sucked in his tummy. 

Deceiving his wife was wrong, to be sure, but it wasn’t _much_ , anyways, just a few extra snacks here and there. Just when he _really, really_ needed it, that was the rule he’d set for himself. What did Ginny know, after all, about what he absolutely needed?

Of course, what he refused to admit was that he had quickly morphed into _really, really_ needing it every day. 

One morning on the way to work, two weeks into his “diet”, Harry was polishing off his third jelly donut of the morning when he allowed himself to give thought to Draco Malfoy. 

_Healer Malfoy probably wouldn’t be pleased, jelly donuts aren’t on the diet,_ Harry thought to himself. His thoughts then gave way to Draco’s icy hands on his tummy, remembering how it had felt. 

_Maybe he wouldn’t be so mad after all._

.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Meanwhile, Draco was going insane. He couldn’t get Potter off his mind. He found his thoughts wandering to Potter during his down time, which could quickly become dangerous if he allowed it to. 

The date of Harry’s next appointment was circled on the calendar in his office in red, and Draco would glance at it ever-so-longingly on his lunch breaks. 

He wondered what Potter was eating, what he was wearing, if he was sticking strictly to his diet. _He’s a bloody Gryffindor, he’s probably stuck to it by the letter,_ Draco thought dourly one evening. Mostly he wondered if Potter had thought about their _situation_ any more; if he’d become uncomfortable by it. 

Two more weeks. Two...more...weeks.

.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On the day of Harry’s next appointment with Draco, Harry put on his new pair of trousers that he’d purchased in secret at Madame Malkin’s the week before. His old ones simply couldn’t do it anymore, they must’ve shrunk in the wash or something. He’d bought his new trousers a size too big, making Ginny crow over how loose his pants were. He’d played along, his stomach burning with guilt over the lies he was telling. 

Nothing a cauldron cake couldn’t solve. 

As his day at work wore on, he was…Merlin help him, he was _excited_ to see Draco. He was so excited, in fact, that he could barely concentrate on anything else. He eventually forced himself into focusing on his work, becoming immersed in some reports of magical nuisance. Mindlessly he snacked all day, until he looked up and saw that it was 3:30. His appointment was at 3:45, so he started to gather his things and put them away. 

As he finished, he spied a piece of chocolate creme pie he hadn’t finished on the corner of his desk. _It’s a sin to waste pie,_ Harry thought, and shoveled the last few bites into his mouth. 

When he looked down, he saw that his trousers were covered in loose chocolate from the pie. He swore under his breath. It wouldn’t do to go see his weight loss Healer covered in chocolate, would it? 

He still had his old pants in the drawer of his desk; he supposed they would have to do. 

He changed quickly in the bathroom before leaving, praying his pants would hold throughout his appointment.

Before he knew it, the nurse was calling his name to follow her back. He shuffled behind her and she stopped at the scale, as he knew she would. 

He honestly didn’t know what he was hoping for when he stepped on, but he was still shocked to hear her announce, “You went up. 18 stone. Right on the nose.” 

So, he’d gained. Quite a bit, he realized; 12 pounds or so. He unconsciously rubbed his tummy, and realized he was thinking of Draco. How would he react? 

The nurse settled him in the exam room, and he perched on the table, his heart pounding as he waited for Draco.

.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Draco accepted Harry’s chart from the nurse and he tried to appear uninterested as he flipped through the pages, landing on the notes from that day.

_18 stone. +12,_ it said in his nurse’s small, flowy script. 

_Oh, Potter,_ Draco thought, his mouth going dry, _you aren’t making this easy on me._


	4. 12 pounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco admonishes Harry for his poor diet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the lovely comments :)

Harry looked up when he heard the sound of knocking on the door, announcing Draco’s entrance. He was so very _Malfoy_ , Harry mused. His robes were made of the finest fabric, and his hair was perfectly coiffed. He moved gracefully, almost as though he glided, somehow. Harry didn’t know this for certain, but he was sure that his ab muscles were hard and defined, and that his body would be the envy of many.

All Harry could do to improve himself in Draco’s presence at the moment was sit up straighter on the exam table, so he did. 

Draco looked him over slowly from head to toe as he stood in the doorway. Harry squirmed underneath Draco’s gaze; it made him feel incredibly vulnerable to have those piercing eyes examine every inch of him. When he was done appraising Harry, Draco moved forward until he was standing almost directly in front of him.

“And how are we today, Mr. Potter?” Draco asked in the same polished voice from the end of their last appointment; Harry would have been lying if he said it didn’t disappoint him just a little. 

“Erm, doing fine, I suppose,” Harry said innocently. “Can’t complain.” 

“Good. And how’s the diet coming?” 

“Ginny cooks the foods on your list. I eat them.” _Not a lie,_ Harry’s brain said in triumph. Ginny cooked food, he ate it. That just wasn’t all he ate. 

“That’s great that she’s supportive, it really is key. And how is your exercise going?” 

Harry thought of the many mornings he’d promised Ginny he was going for a brisk walk, when he was really hiding in a cafe up the road, stuffing himself silly with scones and bagels. “Going well. I go for walks, and...stuff.”

“Excellent. I bet you’ve found your endurance is increasing, eh?” Draco asked slyly. 

“Loads,” Harry said simply, starting to squirm a little. 

“Right. Just so we’re clear, I’ve looked at your chart, and I know the only walks you’ve been taking have been to whatever restaurant or store is selling your favorite sweets,” Draco said, his voice having finally lost the polish and professionalism that Harry had come to loathe. 

It had taken on an edge to it, one that seemed full of possibility to Harry’s ears. 

“Maybe that’s true,” Harry heard himself saying, to his own surprise. “And what are you going to do about it?” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Draco’s cock had been at attention since the moment he walked into the exam room and saw Potter sitting there. He took another brief moment to thank whomever had made Healer’s robes so full and billowy. 

Potter was perched on the edge of the table in pants that had to have been the same from the month before. The only difference was the twelve extra pounds that had been stuffed into them, which seemed to be almost more than they could bare. Potter had shed his sweater vest for this appointment, much to Draco’s inner delight. His dress shirt was also doing double time, the buttons threatening to lose their places. Draco had to stop himself from licking his lips when he saw the pale pink strip of tummy fat that was poking out between two of the middle buttons. 

Draco was still unsure of exactly how Potter felt about what had occurred during their previous appointment, but he thought the fact that he had dressed himself in clothes that had fit thirty pounds ago meant he had enjoyed whatever it was. 

He was then _certain_ Potter had liked it when Draco had called him out on lying about his diet changes and Potter’s response had been to practically _dare_ him to do something about it. 

_Play it cool, Malfoy,_ Draco whispered in his head. 

“If you intend to eat yourself into oblivion, that’s your own business, Mr. Potter. I’d just prefer you not lie to me about it,” Draco said. 

“Technically, I haven’t lied at all,” Potter said, blinking up innocently at Draco. _Fuck._

“Twelve extra pounds on the scale and your poor pants would indicate otherwise,” Draco said. He saw Harry swallow and take a deep breath. 

“I eat the healthy foods Ginny’s cooked. Maybe I snack on other stuff, too,” Harry said. 

“Snack on _other things?_ Chocolate, by the looks of it.” There was a chocolate stain on Harry’s shirt the size of a Sickle, right near the gaping buttons. “Chocolate is not on the diet, Mr. Potter,” Draco said quietly. He touched the stain on Potter’s shirt, and pushed inwards. Potter closed his eyes. 

“Draco,” he whispered, his voice husky. 

Draco slipped his finger in between the gaping buttons on Potter’s shirt, stroking the soft skin of his tummy. “All that chocolate really packs on the pounds. Twelve of them, right?” 

“Yes, twelve,” Potter said, breathing heavily. In a slightly quavering voice, revealing his inexperience with the situation, Potter said, “Can..can you see them?” 

Draco closed his eyes briefly, and then opened them again. _Fuck,_ Potter already knew how to drive him _mad_. “Not quite.” Draco nimbly undid each button on Potter’s shirt until it lay open, revealing the curves of a man who loved to eat. Potter shrugged off the shirt, letting it fall to the exam room floor.

“Here’s the chocolate, I think,” Draco said thoughtfully, pinching a fingerful of fat on Potter’s left side. “You never answered my questions. What other forbidden foods have you been eating?” 

Potter looked at Draco. “Cheeseburgers. Sandwiches. Chocolate frogs. Cauldron cakes. And lots of donuts.” 

Draco clicked his tongue in mock disapproval. “All not on the diet. Here’s all those donuts and other sweets,” Draco said, moving his hands and pinching Potter’s belly on the right side. “Here’s the sandwiches,” he said, pinching slightly lower. “I think this is the cheeseburgers, this here,” Draco muttered, using his fingers to jiggle the soft fat of Potter’s lower belly. 

Potter closed his eyes and arched his back slightly; Draco observed with a smile that Potter’s cock was pushing at the zipper of his pants. 

“Yes, I think you’ve done a number on yourself in just a short time,” Draco said quietly, slapping Potter’s stomach so his whole tummy wobbled. Potter yelped, actually yelped aloud, and Draco’s cock dripped, just slightly. He cast a look at the door, afraid that someone might have heard. Potter noticed.

“Sorry,” he murmured. “It’s just...I’ve never..no one’s ever touched me like this. Ginny and I pretend _this_ isn’t here,” Potter said, gently touching his stomach. 

“Well, then, your wife must be _disappointed_ in your progress thus far,” Draco said silkily. “It can’t feel good to lie to her while you’re stuffing yourself silly behind her back.” 

“No, I guess not. But if I just ate the foods you told me to...I’m just so _hungry_ , Healer Malfoy,” Potter said urgently. 

_Calling me ‘Healer’, he’s playing hardball now,_ Draco thought. _So will I. I know what’ll drive him nuts._

“Can you lie back, please, so I can continue the exam?” Draco asked nonchalantly. Harry scrambled back up on the table, laying down. Draco paused a moment, watching Harry’s belly rise and fall with every breath. 

Draco’s breath caught in his throat briefly as he appraised Potter again. Seeing Potter lying there, vulnerable, pants cinching his waist so tightly that his belly stuck out like he was _pregnant_ , for fuck’s sake, nearly did him in. 

Potter squirmed again underneath Draco’s scrutiny, but settled down as soon as Draco’s hands started to massage his middle. His soft hands rubbed circles on Potter’s tummy, much more gentle than the slap from earlier, and it felt so good, for both of them. Draco’s finger slipped into Potter’s belly button, and Potter moaned. 

“Yes, if you continue eating this way, Mrs. Potter’ll be very upset, and you, sir...well, you’ll be as big as a house,” Draco murmured, continuing to rub small circles on Potter’s belly. He moved south and tried to slip his hand down Potter’s pants, but the fabric was too constrictive. He was able to to hook one finger down it, and he smiled lasciviously at Potter. 

“These trousers are about at their maximum, don’t you think?” Draco asked innocently. Potter eyed him, and shrugged slightly. 

“There’s always new trousers.” 

Draco stepped back and said, “Everything feels just _fine_ here, I think. Let’s update your measurements. Stand up.” 

Potter stumbled to his feet, and Draco produced his measuring tape. “Remember, no sucking in,” Draco reminded him, and Potter’s belly relaxed as far as it would go. “Good lad,” he murmured. 

“Looks as though you’ve eaten yourself into another almost two inches, Mr. Potter. You’re at 41 inches around,” Draco said, breathing heavily. “Like I said, you’ll be as big as a house if you keep it up.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry was in agony. His cock was positively _throbbing_ with pleasure and with the effort of not shooting off. He also knew, somehow, that it would ruin what they had going, so he willed himself to stay calm.

Draco snaked the measuring tape around the other various parts of his body and notated the measurements. When he was finished, he handed Harry his shirt from where it had fallen, forgotten, on the floor. Harry scrambled back into it, his fingers shaking as he struggled to fit the buttons back into their places. Draco watched as he went, and that made it all that much harder to get dressed. 

“I think I’d better see you in another two weeks. You’re a bit of a special case. You really need my help,” Draco said thoughtfully. “I suppose you’d better decide in the meantime how you intend to deal with this.” Draco gave his belly one more little pinch, then went to leave. 

Draco paused with his hand on the door. He cast Potter another sidelong glance. “Twelve pounds.” He clucked his tongue in mock disapproval. “Oh, and Mr. Potter? Watch that chocolate,” Draco said, then swept out of the room. 

Harry slammed the lock down on the door and thanked Merlin that Draco was gone as he came in his pants. His body practically convulsed with waves of pleasure and he gasped as he took in great, heaving breaths. 

When he was spent, he looked around the exam room for anything to help clean himself up. He magicked away the mess as best as he could. He was having poor luck with trousers today. 

As he threw on his Auror’s robes, it occurred to him that Draco had had that effect on him without using anything more than his words and his hands. 

_What on Earth would happen if he ever used more than that?_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Draco leaned against the closed exam room door, smiling broadly as he heard the lock turn home and Potter’s muffled gasps. He couldn’t be sure, of course, but he had an inkling as to what was happening on the other side of the door. 

He passed his nurse on the way back to his office and said, “Mr. Potter’s all set, I made his appointment myself. I’m afraid he may turn out to be a rather _difficult_ patient to get through to.”


	5. Progress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry finds himself making plans, and making changes; Draco enjoys the fruit of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued thanks for your kind words and kudos on this story. <3 Feel free to leave suggestions or whatnot in the comments, as well. I'm always open to them.

As soon as Harry had cleaned himself up, he straightened his robes and pushed his way out of the clinic. He saw Draco charting out of the corner of his eye, and he avoided making eye contact. It wasn’t until he was outside in the waning late afternoon sunlight that his thoughts turned to Ginny. 

Harry didn’t know where his _interactions_ with Draco Malfoy fell on the great, cosmic infidelity scale. They hadn’t had sex, they hadn’t even kissed. Sure, Draco’s hands had been all over him in various places, but technically, every single area of his body that had been touched had been the subject of a medical exam. Draco was a weight loss Healer; he’d simply been...assessing the areas of interest. 

And okay, if he was being honest, nothing he or Ginny had _ever_ done had really made him feel the way Draco had. 

But, was there some sort of rule when you got married that said nothing else in the besides your spouse could ever make you happy again? Harry didn’t think so. He decided right then that he hadn’t cheated on Ginny, and since she’d insisted on having a Healer intervene in his eating habits, he couldn’t possibly be blamed for any of this. 

The bigger problem ( _pun intended_ , he thought with a wry smile) was how to hide the fact that he had gained weight from Ginny. Rather, how he could hide from her the fact that he had no intention of ever losing a single pound. 

He didn’t know where this weird arrangement with Draco Malfoy would end up, but he had already decided that he wouldn’t be the one to end it. Draco wanted him to pay attention to his diet, and from that moment forward, he would do just that. 

At whatever cost. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, Harry happily clattered down the stairs, freshly showered, shaved and ready for his day. He’d told Ginny that “Healer Malfoy was _extremely_ pleased” with his progress, which, again, wasn’t a lie. 

Ginny had been thrilled, cooking him a special supper of veggie noodles with watery tomato sauce and a side of steamed squash to celebrate. He’d devoured everything on his plate, and during his “evening walk” he’d stopped to have a true celebration at a local fried chicken restaurant.

This morning he tucked into his usual fare with his family-cottage cheese, sliced peaches, turkey sausage and dry toast-and excused himself earlier than normal, blaming an early meeting at the office. 

“Have a wonderful day, my love,” Harry said, kissing his wife and then his children. After he left, Ginny wondered when was the last time he’d seemed so radiant. 

On the way to work, he ate three donuts and a breakfast sandwich in a solitary compartment on the train, washing it down with two glasses of whole milk and an orange juice. He was stuffed solid, which, he decided, was the perfect time for putting into action the official plan he’d come up with, which he’d taken to calling **Operation Room to Grow** in his head. 

**Operation Room to Grow** involved a trip to Madame Malkin’s, where he purchased a metric ton of new clothes. Most of them were exact duplicates of his current wardrobe, in varying (increasing) sizes. Madame Malkin raised an eyebrow at him as she bagged up his new clothing, but she was never one to question a customer, especially when it came to a purchase as large as the one Harry made. He stowed his new clothes in a bag that he’d charmed to hold an unending amount of items, a useful spell he’d picked up from Hermione during the War. 

He changed into a pair of his roomy new trousers once he got to work. As he looked at himself in the mirror, he thought of his trip to Madame Malkin’s and how hurt Ginny would be if she ever found out that he was not only breaking his diet but outright deceiving her with his wardrobe. The thought was quickly pushed aside as he admired his side profile, rubbing his belly and thinking of how wonderful it would feel to fill out these trousers, too.

For lunch, he ate two double cheeseburgers, a pile of french fries, and a chocolate milkshake. He wished Draco was there.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the middle of the following week, Draco was eating a solitary lunch at his desk (a simple green salad with a vinaigrette dressing- _we can’t all be Potter_ , he thought to himself) when his nurse stuck her head into his office and presented him with a letter. 

“Just arrived by owl for you, it’s marked urgent,” the nurse said. Draco thanked her and she left. He recognized Potter’s messy scrawl instantly, the same as from his Hogwarts days. He slid his thumb under the flap, his hands shaking. 

_Healer Malfoy,_

_I just wanted to thank you for your counsel and opinions at our meeting last week. I understand your concerns, and I’ve taken them to heart. You’re right, I needed to decide how to deal with my problem. And I have decided._

_You were right about one other thing...I’ll soon be as big as a house, the way I’m going._

_Looking forward to our meeting next week,_

_Harry Potter_

Draco couldn’t believe the gall of Potter, really. 

He’d never dreamed that Harry Potter could be so _fun_.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An owl rapped on the window by Harry’s desk smartly with her beak. Harry grinned evilly. It hadn’t taken Draco long to reply, as he had figured. He opened the letter. 

_Mr. Potter,_

_I’m pleased to hear that you’ve given thought to what we discussed. At your size, it’s not wise to hem and haw about these things; you’ve an enormous amount of potential, and I’d hate to see you not realize it. _

_I look forward to seeing your efforts,_

_Healer Malfoy_

Harry licked orange dust from his fingers, the remains of a bag of cheese puffs. He couldn’t wait until Draco saw his efforts, too. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

From then on, Draco saw Potter every other week in his clinic. 

Every other week, Potter got fatter. 

Every other week, Potter and Draco grew closer. 

Their relationship oscillated between what it had started as-an angry Healer/disobedient patient roleplay-and what it had become-two men who were hot for each other, for various reasons. Along the way, it became about more than just wanting to suck each other off in a Healer’s office. At some point, Potter had decided to shove his worries about infidelity away and let his lust for Draco take over. And Draco would never admit it, but he’d grown awfully fond of every inch of Potter, and not just the fat parts. His smile, his personality, those eyes. Everything.

Draco knew he could lose everything if anyone found out, and it was the fear of that which kept him from inviting Potter to his place for a proper romp. He would’ve loved nothing more than to plow Potter for hours, but there were...outside forces at play. His job, Potter’s wife. These things kept them locked in clinic exam rooms, as Draco jerked Potter off quietly and worshipped his round belly. Those same things at play kept Potter quietly switching his trousers out for larger ones and avoiding sex with his wife as he grew. 

And _Merlin_ , how he grew. It was almost euphoric for Draco to think about.

A few pounds here, a few more inches there. It all added up. 

Six weeks into their established _playtime_ , Potter was forty-six pounds heavier and Draco was helping him celebrate. Draco dry-humped Potter’s belly, feeling like a fucking forth year but not daring to go any further lest someone hear. No, in this exam room Draco’s clothes mostly stayed on, and he _hated it_ but knew he had no other choice. 

Potter moaned quietly, and Draco grinned. “You look like a fucking _whale_ , Potter, you know that?”

“I know, I know,” Potter gasped. 

“You just keep eating and eating, don’t you? You never get full. You’ve gorged yourself until you’ve turned into a fucking whale, haven’t you, baby?” Draco hissed at him. 

“Yes, I can’t stop. Even when I know I’ve had e-enough,” Potter’s voice quavered. 

“And you’ll never stop, will you? Your belly is going to get bigger and bigger until you _explode._ ” Draco punctuated his last word with a rough bite of Potter’s belly fat; Potter gasped and his hips bucked.

“I’m going to, fuck, Draco, I’m going to--“ 

“You’re gonna come into those tight-ass pants? Don’t think I haven’t noticed how tight they are, another pair you’re busting out of, my little piglet-“ 

Potter moaned as his cock shot off, Draco following suit moments later. Spent and exhausted, the two men lay beside each other, cheats heaving with the effort, Potter’s more so than Draco’s. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

After a few moments of catching his breath, Harry un-entwined himself from Draco and cleaned himself up. “Piglet is a new one,” Harry murmured, sleepily kissing Draco. He didn’t want to go home, he thought briefly. So tired. Just wanted to lie with Draco. 

Draco smiled and shrugged. “Felt right at the time. These _are_ awfully snug, my love,” he said, fitting two fingers down the front of Harry’s trousers. “Up another size soon.” 

“Guess so,” Harry said with a smile, his brain focusing entirely on the easy way with which Draco had just addressed him. _He’s never once called me ‘love’ before,_ Harry thought. He didn’t know how he felt about it. He bent over and struggled to reach his shirt, groaned a little, and rubbed his tummy when he straightened up. “Some things don’t get easier as time goes on.” 

Draco hopped down and cleaned himself up quickly, then wrapped his arms around Harry. Harry flushed at the gesture; odd that Draco’s arms around him felt more intimate than him rutting against him until they were both orgasming, but there was no accounting for matters of the heart, eh? 

"You’re at 286 now, correct?” Draco asked, letting go of Harry and starting to put his Healer’s robes back on. 

“I am at that,” Harry said, fastening his own robes. 

“Just a stone away from a milestone, if my calculations are correct,” Draco said slyly. 

Harry paused briefly, pretending to count. “Yes, your math is right. Fourteen pounds more.” 

“I wonder how quickly you can get there, you know? It’s quite a milestone, that. Just think it’ll be interesting to see how things pan out,” Draco said softly. 

"Maybe by the next time I see you, if you’re good,” Harry said with a devilish grin. 

“Oh, that’s much too soon. You only put on six pounds in the last two weeks. Fourteen is more than double that, it’s too much,” Draco said innocently, but Harry knew what was happening. He was engaging Harry’s innate Gryffindor-ness, his need to rise to a challenge. 

Christ, it was working. 

"It’s not too much, I can do it. I’m nothing if not determined,” Harry said, his brash confidence shining from his eyes. 

“Well, it’s good to have goals. Something to strive for,” Draco said, kissing Harry one last time before exiting the small room. 


	6. Milestones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry pushes himself to reach certain goals that have been set; Draco worries that he's starting to want more than he can have.

As Harry left the office, he turned Draco’s dare-of gaining an entire stone in two weeks-over and over in his mind. He’d never gained that much in such a short period of time before; the most he’d ever impressed Draco with was nine pounds, and he felt as though those weeks he’d pushed himself to his max. It had taken him an entire month to gain _twelve_ pounds. _This might not be so easy_ , he thought as he pushed the door open and exited the building. _But I think I can do it._

The next thing he thought of was how he was going to continue to hide things from Ginny. It’d been almost two months, and he’d gained nearly fifty pounds; it was an average of nearly eight pounds per week, and doing so took a lot of effort. There were many nights he’d stumbled home late, blaming exercise, late meetings, and activities with Ron, and all the while he’d been so stuffed with food he had nearly been ill. He wasn’t sure how she was still unaware of the fact that he had been porking out. He was meticulously careful about making sure he always wore baggy clothes around her, but he was impressed by how much of an optical illusion that apparently was for her. It wouldn’t be for long, though, as he’d seen her eying his body critically over breakfast. He could practically see the cogs turning in her mind. 

It was time to put in place the next phase of **Operation Room to Grow**. He owl’d off a letter to Ginny saying his appointment had gone well, but he had to return to work to catch up on some things, and not to wait up.

Harry then apparated to Diagon Alley and wandered the cobblestone street until he reached a clothing store that wasn’t Madame Malkin’s. Once he was inside, he cast a disguise spell on himself and wandered the store until he’d found what he needed. The problem with being the prince of the Wizarding World was that everyone knew what you looked like, and he couldn’t tuck into a proper meal or go into this shop to purchase what he needed looking like Harry Potter. The _Daily Prophet_ would be splashed with headlines the next morning about Potter inhaling food at various restaurants. No, he couldn’t have that, so disguising charms were a staple in his magical repertoire. 

Once he finished up at the store, he headed to the Leaky Cauldron and settled into a meal of three cheeseburgers, a steak and kidney pie, a mound of french fries, and a side dish of bangers and mash. It was a huge meal, the biggest he’d probably had yet, and his heart thumped in his chest as he looked at it. This is how he would hit his goal, and he dug in with abandon while he flipped through the pages of a _Daily Prophet_ someone had left behind.

By the time he was finished with the paper, he’d polished off the cheeseburgers, ¾ of the steak and kidney pie, and most of the fries, and he was stuffed. His belly quivered with every breath, and the bangers and mash seemed to taunt him from the side. He steeled his mind and set to work finishing the rest of his food. Each bite was more excrutiating than the last, as he shoved bites of bangers and mash into a stomach in which there seemed to be no more discernible room.

 

Finally, after ten minutes, he stuffed the last piece of banger into his mouth. It took everything in him not to moan with both pain and pleasure. He looked down and saw that his belly was round and packed as tight as a drum. One of the buttons on his shirt had lost the fight at some point, exposing a section of his belly to the cold air of the pub. _Lucky the place is practically empty,_ Harry thought as he leaned back in his chair and tried to get more comfortable. When that proved difficult, a wicked thought occurred in his head, and he staggered to his feet. He grabbed his shopping bag and waddled to the bathroom, rubbing his belly as he went. 

Once he got to the bathroom, he locked the door and appraised himself in the mirror. His belly stuck straight out, and Harry peeled his shirt away and admired his handiwork. He took a chance and slapped it the way Draco liked; the sound it made, like striking a tightly packed container, _Merlin’s beard_. He waved his wand and conjured up a magical instant camera, and angled his body, taking a picture of just the side profile of his belly. The camera spit the photo out, and then Harry quickly buttoned his shirt again. He took a photo from the same angle, making sure that the space where his button used to be was visible, and then he quickly apparated to his office. 

Thankfully, the office was deserted now, as well. He reached for a sheet of parchment and scrawled a message on it. 

_Draco,_

_I’m already hard at work on my goals. I’m in so much_ pain _right now, it’s hard to breath. My belly is so tight and firm. You should hear the sound it makes._

_Thought you’d like to see._

_Potter_

He stuffed the letter into an envelope, and included both pictures. Before he sealed it, he looked at the photos again; it was odd to him, how much he enjoyed his own body. Harry had never _hated_ his body before, per se, but being decidedly in love with it was an entirely new feeling for him. The lavish praise (both direct _and_ indirect) Draco had showed to parts of him that before might have been a source of embarrassment or displeasure had opened up a new world to him. He found himself loving every inch, every pound, every experience that his playing with Draco brought on. So often it was erotic, but often, like now, it wasn’t. He liked the way he looked, and fuck if he didn’t like the way his tight belly _felt_ , too.

He enclosed the pictures in the envelope, sealed it, and sent it off with the owl near his desk. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Draco was enjoying a glass of wine on his sofa while he perused a medical journal. He was always so relaxed, so content after his meetings with Potter. He flipped a page casually and then heard the tapping of an owl on his window. 

As soon as the window was open, the bird swooped in and laid a letter at his feet. Draco bent over and picked it up, instantly recognizing the messy scrawl on the outside. His heartbeat quickened as he ripped open the envelope, and increased as he read the short note. 

Potter had included _photos_. The man was just downright _evil_ sometimes, Draco thought. His mouth went dry as he intently studied the photos. If he hadn’t known better, he would have assumed these were photos of a woman in her eighth month of pregnancy. Potter’s gut was stretched beyond anything Draco had seen so far, and it was absolutely maddening to see the photos and to not be able to reach out and touch him. And the missing button… _good Christ_ , Draco thought to himself. These photos excited him.

And yet.

Despite the way these pictures had sent a shot straight to his cock, there was something else there. Sadness. In the two and a half months since Potter and Draco had been reunited-two and a half months since their very first appointment together-Draco had started to fall for Potter. He ached to be the one feeding Potter, rubbing his tummy, packing his lunch, washing his clothes. Sure, he wanted to plow him, but he also wanted...the rest of it. He wanted a life with him. And sometimes-oh, sometimes-he bloody hated himself for wanting it. 

Because he knew, deep down, he couldn’t have it. Potter was married, and had kids with Ginny Weasley. What they were doing together was certainly crossing some sort of marital line, but Draco knew that if he pushed too hard for much more, Potter would make a decision. He would choose. And he wouldn’t choose Draco. That stung more than Draco would admit. 

Thoroughly depressed now, and thoroughly irritated because these photos should’ve led to an evening of wanking that would have been one for the books, he scrawled off a half-assed attempt at sexual tension to Potter, and sent it off with the owl. Then he left the photos scattered on his coffee table, and retired to his bedroom for the evening.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry’s addition to **Operation Room to Grow** worked like a charm; in fact, it worked much better than he had dared hope that it would. At the small shop in Diagon Alley, he’d purchased something that he had heard some witches in another department at the Ministry discussing: some new clothing item that sucked in one’s tummy and smoothed everything out. It was essentially an undershirt with some sorts of charms attached.

The morning after his big meal at the Leaky, he tugged it on after his shower and put some old, smaller clothes on. With the charm attached to the undershirt, it instantly vanished the nearly fifty pounds he’d put on, and then some. He looked about twenty pounds thinner than before this had begun, and he was thrilled. Harry continued to study himself in the mirror and figured that if he started wearing more close-fitting clothing, then Ginny would just think that was what he’d looked like. Sure, it felt at times like he was suffocating, and sure, he was still deceiving the woman who loved him and just wanted him healthy, but...in his warped, pleasure-riddled mind, all that mattered was that he could continue his romps with Draco. And could continue to eat all he wanted. 

The next two weeks passed in a blur of calorically-rich food. Harry ate more than he’d eaten in his whole life. He passed his mornings in greasy diners, eating triple portions of bacon, biscuits smothered in fatty sausage gravy, stacks of pancakes dripping with butter and doused in syrup, waffles smothered in whipped cream and chocolate sauce. He spent his lunch breaks quietly shoveling food into his face in his office, eating entire large pizzas, family size bags of crisps, entire packages of grocery store cookies, multiple sandwiches piled high with deli meats and cheeses. Before he went home to his family he would shovel in donuts, chocolates, cakes, and pies. 

At night, he would lay in bed after Ginny had long fallen asleep, and remove his magical undershirt and let his belly hang out. He would rub small circles on it, reveling in the pain and stroking the stretch marks that had come. 

He couldn’t wait to see Draco again. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Potter came in for his appointment, Draco was waiting. As the nurse lead him to the scale, he was perched behind the nurse’s station desk, pretending to organize some of his patient charts. He didn’t so much as glance in Potter’s direction, but his ears were focused on what was going on across the room. 

He heard Potter shuffle over and the groan of the scale as he stepped onto it. A moment later, the nurse said quietly, “It’s 302 today, Mr. Potter,” in a disappointed voice. 

Draco didn’t dare glance up, afraid that he’d allow a smile to betray his attractions. Instead, he continued his charting and heard the nurse lead Potter down the hall to an exam room. Draco waited the appropriate length of time, cleared his throat, and then joined Potter. 

Draco locked the door per usual and finally allowed himself to look at Potter, who had already removed his shirt. His paramour had gained _more_ than a stone in the last two weeks; sixteen pounds, in fact, pushing him over the 300 pound threshold, and he looked...different...to Draco.

It was as though Draco was finally seeing every change made to Potter’s body over these last few months all at once. Potter was more than just fat, he was...corpulent, cherubic. It wasn’t just Potter’s tummy that had grown, either. It was his thighs, thick and soft, that rubbed together while he walked. It was the way his arse wobbled, his pants full with it. It was the double chin that had softened his jaw line, his cheeks chubby and full. And his belly had born the brunt of it, of course, it was the center of his girth. It was full, round and heavy; his belly button was a cavernous hole. He looked as though someone had attached a flesh colored beach ball to his frame. 

“Sixteen pounds in two weeks, you did it,” Draco growled under his breath, kissing Potter full on the lips.

Potter grinned and broke the kiss, whispered in Draco’s ear, “Gotta show you something.” He laid back on the table, and Draco saw that the top button of his trousers had been left undone. Potter sucked in his gut as much as he could, and Draco was pleased to notice that his doing so was mostly fruitless; his fat didn’t want to go anywhere. Potter reached underneath him and struggled for a moment, but ultimately succeeded in buttoning the top button of his trousers. He lay on his back for a moment, breathing heavily with the exertion. 

Potter then sat up on the exam table, and almost immediately upon leaning forward, both buttons of his trousers abandoned ship, clattering uselessly to the floor and allowing his gut to surge free. “Happened this morning, but I magically mended them again so I could show you. I figured you’d be pleased,” he said, kissing Draco, who appeared to have been rendered somewhat speechless. 

Draco kissed him back urgently, then sunk his fingers into the doughy mass of Potter’s belly. “302 pounds, you fat fuck,” he whispered. The celebration began.


	7. Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ginny makes an unpleasant discovery; Harry and Draco have a talk about the future. Turbulence ensues.

While Harry and Draco tucked into another afternoon of strange, belly-centric exam room oral sex, morals and wives long forgotten, Ginny was laying all of her children down for an increasingly-rare afternoon nap, oblivious to her husband’s indiscretions.

Albus and Lily had gone down twenty minutes before, and she’d suggested to her eldest that maybe, just maybe, he might be sleepy, too. James had adamantly refused, so she’d settled him on the sofa in front of the TV with a cartoon. Five minutes in, her four-year-old was out cold, his thumb plugged in his mouth. Ginny smiled and settled down at the kitchen table with a literary magazine and a warm cup of tea, the silence around her enveloping her. She was almost certain she’d regret allowing her children to sleep so late in the afternoon, but she needed these moments of quiet.

She found herself unable to focus on the words in front of her, however, her thoughts turning to her husband. Her husband, who’d been eating everything she cooked for him without so much as a complaint, who had taken up exercise with rigor, who was attentive and playful and loving with both the children and herself. Who was working crazy long days and nights to provide for them, who had always told her to do whatever she thought would make her feel fulfilled. Before James, it had been Quidditch, and now it was...this, she thought as she looked around her home. What it would be next, she wasn’t sure, but it was lovely to have options, and support. 

She was just so _proud_ of him, this husband of hers. For the first time since his weight-loss endeavor had begun, he’d worn clothes that really showed off his body this morning. He looked wonderful, slimmer and smoother than he’d looked in years. She didn’t know why he’d been so dismissive about sex and intimacy lately; she’d ached to just be held in his arms. So she was concerned about that, but she supposed losing weight wasn’t the cure for any and all body issues. In time, he’d come around. 

She decided to do something nice for him. He’d been wearing nothing but baggy clothes and flowing Auror robes for months; she’d surprise him, go down to Madame Malkin’s and get him some more clothes in his correct size. But...what _was_ his correct size? Harry had taken over the burden of laundry from her a few months back, and it had been ages since she’d washed anything of his. Taking a peek at James on the couch to make sure he was alright, she went upstairs to their bedroom. 

Ginny pulled open his dresser and looked at his neatly folded trousers. She selected one from a pile, and unfolded it to check the size. _38_ , the tag informed her, and she narrowed her eyes. That was what he’d been the last time she’d washed his clothes. _Must be an old pair._ She selected from another stack. They were 42s. _42?_ she thought incredulously. She could’ve sworn that he was a 38 the last time Ginny had looked at his clothes. She started to paw through the rest, and her eyes widened as she watched the sizes climb. By the time she’d finished, she was holding a pair of trousers in a size 50, and she was sitting on the floor amidst a pile of discarded clothes. 

_What the hell was going on here?_ Harry had a drawerful of trousers in varying sizes, sizes that would have fit a much larger man than her husband currently was or had been in the past. Even more concerning was the state of these clothes. If they’d been new, it would’ve simply been strange. But these were used trousers. Some of them were worn, stains peppering the fabric. Others had holes, ripped seams; a few even had missing buttons. 

And then, at the bottom of the drawer, buried underneath everything else, was an undershirt. It looked plain enough, but she couldn’t figure out why he would have it. The tag read **_TummyTamer!!_** in excited print, and she tried it on, pulling off her own sweater before putting it on, then replacing it. Ginny wasn’t a large woman, but she had a small leftover paunch from carrying three children that wouldn’t go away no matter how hard she tried. She looked in the mirror and was shocked to find that the...whatever-this-was had smoothed everything out. Her baby fat was gone and she now had curves in all the right place. It dawned on her what this was, and she realized just how it could have worked to Harry’s advantage.

She turned it over and over in her mind, and the only conclusion she could come up with was...that Harry had been lying to her. That he hadn’t been eating properly and exercising and seeing a Healer to help him. 

_Bollocks, that’s absolutely insane. He looked so trim this morning! He couldn’t possibly be looking that trim and wearing a size 50._

But the evidence surrounded her, and there could be no other explanation, short of Harry storing used trousers and a magically slimming undergarment for a very large friend of his. 

Tears filled Ginny’s eyes, tears of anger and disbelief. _If he was lying about this, what else could he lie about?_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Draco found himself lying in Potter’s arms post-playtime, exhausted, delirious, happy. Potter’s tummy was a perfect pillow, and if this were a perfect world, he wouldn’t have to ever get up. 

But, this was not a perfect world. This was a cramped exam room, and their time was always limited. 

“Sixty-two pounds,” Draco said, lazily running his finger across Potter’s wide expanse of flesh. “You’re a regular butterball.” 

“You wouldn’t _believe_ how much food I ate the last two weeks to do this, Merlin’s beard,” Potter said, slapping his rock-solid gut underneath Draco’s head. The sensation was delightful. “A lot of nights that I could’ve used those hands to make me feel better,” Potter said under his breath.

“I would’ve loved nothing more than that,” Draco said, kissing Potter’s belly and pushing himself up. “Nearly time to go, come on,” Draco said sadly. The two men started to get dressed. 

“Wish this wasn’t it,” Potter said as he magically mended his pants from the popped buttons earlier and using a charm to enlarge them a bit. “It sucks that it has to be this way.”

“I want you to come to my flat,” Draco suddenly blurted out, and Potter looked at him incredulously. 

“You want me to come over to your flat,” Potter repeated, looking confused and...strangely heartbroken. “I can’t do that Draco, you know that.” 

“Why not? This is fun, what we’re doing, but Potter, I want you in my home. I want to fuck you, _properly_ , the way you deserve,” Draco said with a small smile. “I want to feed you until you’re so fucking full that I could bounce a Knut off your belly, and then I want to feed you some more,” he said in a husky voice, grabbing Potter’s hips and pulling him close.

“I want nothing more than that, Draco, you know that. But...it’s crossing a line. I’m married. I have children. We have a life, Ginny and I. I’ve been lying to myself that this isn’t infidelity, though Merlin knows how I’ve managed to convince myself of that. I can’t go any further than what we’re doing now. I’m sorry,” Potter said the last bit softly. Draco’s heart fell, but he set his face to an impassive stony glare.

“Has Ginny noticed yet?” Draco asked. They’d agreed to not bring Potter’s wife into it if they could help it, but Draco had to know, especially now that the line had been drawn in the proverbial sand. He had to know if Potter’s wife really hadn’t noticed that in the past three months, her husband had gained sixty-two pounds. Was girl Weasley really so stupid that she hadn’t noticed her husband was getting no smaller? Was she really so dumb that she hadn’t noticed that he was, in fact, doing the opposite?

“No, she hasn’t noticed anything. Well, she sees me every day. It’s less noticeable when you see someone every day and especially at my size,” Potter said quickly, strangely defensive of his wife and her obliviousness. “And I’ve started wearing that tummy-smoothing undershirt. It makes me look loads smaller.”

“And what happens when you get too fat for that? When that stops making you look thinner, and you just look like your old fat self in it? What then?” Draco asked snidely.

“I don’t know, okay? I haven’t gotten that far yet,” Potter said in an aggravated voice. 

“Typical Gryffindor. Jumping in head first without thinking of the consequences, acting impetuously,” Draco spat. 

Potter narrowed his eyes at Draco. “I needed a solution for right now, and I found one. It’s not perfect, it won’t work forever, but it works _now_ and that’s what I needed. How is that impetuous? You’re so fucking _arrogant_ Draco, Christ.” 

“Do you still want to get fatter, Potter?” Draco hurled his words at him. There was no hint of suggestion in his words; Draco wasn’t toying with Potter to make him hard. He was asking a question, one that was loaded and demanded an answer.

“I mean, I like eating, I love food, I love what we’re doing here...at least up until now. Yeah, I guess I’d fucking like to get fatter, if you stop talking to me like shit,” Potter said angrily. 

Draco waved his hand impassively. “Okay, so you want to get fatter, you want to keep fucking me...but we can’t take this any farther? We can only quietly jerk each other off and dry hump in an exam room like a couple of fucking _fourth years?_ ” 

Potter gnawed on his lower lip, staring at his shoes. Or rather, stared at where he imagined his shoes were, since his girth meant it had been ages since he’d seen them from this vantage point. “I love my wife, Draco. What do you want from me?”

_Leave her. Leave your children. Leave your home. Come live with me. ___

__““I don’t know what I want, Potter. But I do know one thing: a man who loves his wife doesn't lie to her about gaining sixty-two pounds, then _beg_ his Healer to put his cock in said Healer's mouth. Bye.” Draco pushed his way out of the exam room. _ _

__~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_ _

__Harry had no idea what the fuck had gotten into Draco. Their arrangement was _working,_ it was, and sure, it sucked that they couldn’t go any farther but when had Draco decided he needed more? That had never been part of the plan. _ _

__Well, it hadn’t been explicitly discussed, but Draco had to know that he couldn’t leave Ginny. That he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, leave behind his children and the life he’d spent years making just to fuck his Healer._ _

___Draco’s much more than a Healer, you prat,_ some small recess of his mind protested as Harry pulled on his magical undershirt and dressed himself smartly in the clothes that highlighted his fake weight loss. _ _

__That was the problem: Draco was not allowed to become more than a Healer, and he was rapidly becoming that. Maybe it was time to call it quits, time to stop seeing Draco. Maybe it was time to stop eating like a horse. Maybe it was time to stop lying to his wife and come clean. Not about the Draco bits, maybe, but about the fact that he’d been lying to her about what he had been eating, and that he’d actually _gained_ weight. A lot of it. _ _

__He lifted his shirt and looked down, rubbing his belly. He’d gained sixty-two pounds, and sure, it had been fun as hell, and sure, it felt fucking _good_ sometimes to feel like an elephant, but still. _ _

__He tugged his shirt down and looked down at his slimmer profile._ _

__He didn’t know what he was going to do._ _

__~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_ _

__When Harry got home, he did his best to paste on a smile and be happy when he walked through the door. It certainly wasn’t his family’s fault that he’d gotten into a spat with his...lover._ _

__“Kiddos!” Harry called, his children racing over and running into his arms. He kissed them all and then walked over to Ginny in the kitchen. “Something smells amazing, hon. What’s for dinner?”_ _

__“Lasagna and garlic bread,” she said nonchalantly, cracking open the oven to peer in at the main dish. Harry eyed it too, seeing the cheese bubble underneath the heat. His stomach rumbled._ _

__“What am I having?” he asked, assuming that Ginny had prepared some flavorless chicken breast for him to have while the rest of his family ate like kings._ _

__“Lasagna and garlic bread,” she said flatly, shutting the oven sharply and looking at him. _She looks...angry?_ he thought. _ _

__“Did you find a recipe for a low-cal lasagna?” He asked curiously._ _

__“Nope. Tonight you’ll be eating like the rest of us,” she said, reaching into the cabinet and sliding plates onto everyone’s places at the table. “It should be good. It’s got italian sausage and loads of cheese, just the way you like it.”_ _

__“That...sounds wonderful but what about my diet?” Harry asked, filling glasses with water and starting to round up the kids._ _

__“Well, I figured since it’s obviously been _ages_ since you’ve had anything fattening or bad for you, that you deserved a little treat. Right? It has been _ages_ since you had anything like this?” Her eyes had darkened, and she looked beyond angry. _ _

___Fuck._ _ _

__“Gin, I--”_ _

__“Later. It’s dinner time now,” Ginny said, setting the steaming lasagna on the table and looking pointedly at Harry._ _

__~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_ _

__Ginny served the children and herself, cutting up their food and making sure they were all set with everything they needed. She saved Harry for last, letting him squirm with wonder at what was going to happen._ _

__She cut three thick slabs of lasagna and slapped them onto his plate; small flecks of tomato sauce splattered his shirt. He looked at her helplessly, an apology already written on his face. It only made her more livid._ _

__She tossed four pieces of garlic bread onto his plate and nodded. “Eat up. You’ve earned it.”_ _

__Harry looked at his plate, and his mouth dried up. The food looked delicious, to be sure, and this was by no means an amount of food he couldn’t handle. But he was not used to stuffing himself in front of his wife, and the act lost all pleasure with her angry glares. This wouldn’t be pleasant._ _

__He elected to say nothing and simply tucked into the food. It was, unsurprisingly, delicious-Ginny was a terrific cook-and he easily finished all the food on his plate while Ginny and his kids ate theirs, oblivious to the fact that Mommy was glaring at Daddy across the table._ _

__When he was done, his belly was comfortably full, while he was anything but. Especially when he saw her look up, eye his empty, clean plate-all excess tomato sauce having been mopped up with the rest of his garlic bread-and pick up the serving spatula again._ _

__Ginny cut _four_ more pieces of lasagna and another few slices of bread and placed them in front of him. He looked up at her helplessly again. “Go ahead. Life is all about indulgence, right?” _ _

__“Ginny, I’m done. Please.”_ _

__“Harry. _Eat your meal,_ ” she said in an uncharacteristically harsh voice. He obeyed. _ _

__The next plateful of food did not go down as easily as the first. He was able to squeeze in two more pieces with not much protest, but his gut started to kick up a fuss after that. Each bite was excruciatingly painful, and swallowing the food became an act of heroism. There just simply seemed to be no more room for it. His magical undershirt had become stretched beyond all capacity, and he felt as though it were strangling him. He’d never binged in it before, and that had been a wise choice, it seemed. As he continued to eat, he heard the small sound of ripping, and he knew it had conceded the fight._ _

__Finally, with a trembling hand, he forked the last piece of lasagna into his mouth, and threw his utensil down with a clatter. A small moan escaped his lips, and Ginny stood up._ _

__For a brief, terrifying moment, Harry was afraid she was about to try to force him to eat more lasagna, as there was still a quarter of a pan left. A brief thought- _if this was Draco and not Ginny, Merlin’s beard_ -ran through his mind, but then was replaced again with the fear of having to eat more food in front of his enraged wife. Instead, she simply walked over to him and looked down at his stomach, which had started to swell with the obvious ripping of his magical aide. _ _

__“Looks like you may have overdone it. Why don’t you go upstairs and get comfortable, and I’ll get the kids down for the evening. Relax. I’ll join you when I’ve finished,” she said icily._ _

__Harry debated on what to say, settled for saying nothing, then painfully walked upstairs to their bedroom. As curious as he was to see what was going on and how Ginny had found out, the problem of his stomach was taking precedence over the problems with his wife. Every movement was painful, as his overfull stomach swayed with each step. He rubbed it as he went, but it did little to soothe him._ _

__He could think of nothing else but laying down in their bed and peeling off his clothes. It sounded like heaven._ _

__Those thoughts were driven from his mind when he opened their bedroom door and saw his dresser yanked open and his comically large assortment of trousers and extra undershirt scattered all over the floor. He hadn’t known what Ginny had figured out on her own, but she had figured out a large part of it, if the mess on the floor and his aching tummy were any indication._ _

___Bollocks. This day has not turned out the way I wanted it to._ _ _


	8. Airing the truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ginny and Harry discuss things; Draco embraces the difference this has made in his life.

Harry stared at the mound of clothes on the floor, and couldn’t think of anything to do but clean them up. He skipped folding them and just shoved them back in the drawer. When he was done cleaning up, he decided to try to change into something more comfortable. He yanked off his trousers, kicking them into the laundry hamper, and changed into his sweatpants. He sighed with relief for the first time since he’d gotten home. 

He turned and faced himself in the full-length mirror across the bedroom. His sweatpants only fit because he’d pulled them up so they sat just beneath his stomach. His corseting undershirt had ripped with the massive amounts of lasagna and bread he’d stuffed into himself at dinner, allowing his belly to expand more than it usually did when he was wearing it. _This shirt is done for,_ he thought as he eyed the damage that he’d done. Two buttons had flown off during the meal, leaving pudgy pockets of fat bulging out from the empty gaps in the fabric. He yanked the shirt off and fingered the large rips in the undershirt. Both sides had split, and cool air blew across his belly from the rip across his middle. He yanked that off, too, and looked at his half-naked body in the mirror. He looked positively huge. 

Ginny’s face appeared in the mirror behind him. He spun around, a sudden thought occurred to him that this was a remarkably similar scenario to the first time he and Ginny had spoken about his weight issues. When he turned to face her, she was hit with the full view of his massive stomach, and she stared at it with wide eyes. 

She took in his wide belly, stretched tight and taut with his dinner. She looked at each stretch mark in turn, light purple-y stripes wrapping the sides of his belly and wrinkling the skin at the bottom. She took in his cavernous belly button, deep and dark and no longer round, but oval with the massive weight of his stomach. His stomach was so full that it shook briefly with each breath, and she finally shook her head with disbelief. 

“So my suspicions were correct,” Ginny said. “I found your stash of trousers and I...I couldn’t think of any other reason for you to have pants that size unless you actually needed them. But I told myself that you had been eating those healthy meals. How is this possible?” 

“Ginny, I’m sorry,” Harry said quietly. “I’m so sorry. I know I’ve let you down.”

“No. I don’t want to _hear_ you apologize right now. What I _want_ is for you to tell me exactly what’s going on. Every bit of it. Now.” She flashed fiery eyes at him. 

“Let me just put on a shirt,” Harry said, half-turning to go find a t-shirt. 

“No. You don’t get to be modest now. You’ve been hiding this from me, you don’t get that luxury anymore. _Tell me,_ ” Ginny said in a scarily icy voice, the same voice that had growled at him earlier to eat his massive quantities of lasagna. He dry swallowed. 

“Okay. Please calm down, I’m sorry, I’ll tell you,” Harry said, gently sitting on the bed and motioning for her to join him. She reluctantly sank down on the mattress across from him. 

“Do not tell me to calm down,” Ginny said. 

“Okay. First of all, I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you about all of this. I tried to follow your diet Ginny, but I was just so fucking _hungry_ , it drove me mad. It started out as just a few extra snacks here, an extra meal there, and before I knew it...this happened,” he said, rubbing his belly. “I’ve been swapping out my clothes for larger ones so you wouldn’t know. Then I found that,” he gestured to his ripped undershirt, “and it helps...slim you down...so that helped, too. Gin, I…” He reached for her hand.

Ginny bristled at the gesture and moved farther from him. “ _That_ ,” she said, pointing at his stomach, “does not come from a few extra snacks and sandwiches. You have to have been gorging constantly for you to gain this much weight, Harry. And for you to fucking _lie_ about it like that...no, it wasnt just you lying, you were deliberately deceiving me. You made a fool of me. How stupid do you think I am?”

Harry sighed. “I know you’re not stupid! I never thought you were stupid. I didn’t make a fool of you, honestly.”

“You made a fool of me every morning that you came downstairs wearing a fucking Witch ‘TummyTamer’ and clothes that you bought in secret. How much do you even weigh? How much weight have you gained?” Ginny asked. 

_Fuck._ “I’ve gained sixty-two pounds. I’m at 302.” 

“Good Christ…” Ginny said, her eyes widening in disbelief. “It’s only been, what? Three months? What does your Healer think about this? Malfoy?”

Harry grew flustered at the mention of Draco. “He...is...quite surprised by my weight gain.”

“Surprised? He’s just _surprised?_ ” Ginny asked quizzically. “Doesn’t he want you to do something about it?” 

Harry’s face flushed a deep red. “I...yes, but, it’s...he…” Harry closed his eyes. 

Ginny paused for a moment. “What the _hell_ is going on?” she finally shrieked, and Harry sighed deeply. 

“I kind of...I’ve had...kind of a...thing with Draco Malfoy,” Harry rushed out. “Ginny, I’m so sorry.”

“You’ve had a thing with Draco Malfoy.” Ginny stared at him incredulously. “You. Have had a _thing_. With Draco. Malfoy.” 

“Yes.”

“So not only have you eaten yourself into oblivion, gained so much weight that you’re practically _bursting_ , you’ve been fucking your Healer, who also happens to be your schoolyard enemy?” Ginny’s eyes started to brim with tears, and Harry wished the earth would open up and swallow him whole. 

“It’s...it’s about this, Ginny, he loves _this_ ,” he said, grabbing his belly roughly. “That’s all, it’s not like I love him, or anything.” Harry’s gut twisted when he said that, knowing full well that on some level he was lying; that Draco meant so much more to him than just an afternoon hand-job. “He loves the way my body is, Gin, he likes seeing me get bigger and I...fuck, I _like_ getting bigger for him, I don’t know why. But you...you were so hell-bent on me losing the weight. You wanted me back in Quidditch shape, and this just felt so much better.” 

Ginny’s tears were now streaming down her cheeks, and she angrily brushed them aside. “So I’m supposed to...what, say I’m sorry? For wanting to make you healthier? For wanting you not to be a tub of goo so that you could live to see our children graduate from Hogwarts? Jesus, I spent so much time cooking healthy meals for you, exercise plans, encouraging you...”

“There’s nothing for you to be sorry about, I’m just trying to make you see _why_ I…”

“ _I don’t give a Hippogriff’s ass why you did what you did!_ ” Ginny screamed at him. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done, Harry? You sound almost...dreamy, about this! Like you and Draco have just been having these delightful late-afternoon lays and I’m supposed to be okay with it because it’s about you getting fatter and fatter! Well, just to clarify, I am _not_ okay with it.” 

“Ginny, I didn’t expect you to be okay with it. I betrayed you and I’m just so fucking sorry,” Harry said, trying gently to take her hand, but she wrenched it away and stood up, fuming at him. “But now that it’s all out, maybe we can concentrate on fixing us, on...trying new things, on trying a different side of us…”

“No, Harry. I’m not okay with _any_ of it. I’m definitely not okay with the cheating and the lying, but I’m not okay with this, either.” Ginny gestured to his stomach, and Harry’s heart sank. “I’m not _attracted_ to big blokes, Harry, and you’re not just big. You’re huge. I don’t want to be married to someone who looks like a ball of blubber. It’s embarrassing. _You’re_ embarrassing. I was just being nice when I didn’t say it before.” Her voice was cold, and it wrapped icy fingers around Harry’s heart. 

“You need to leave, Harry. Get out of here. I don’t want to look at you.” 

“Ginny, we have a life together. We can work on this. The kids, what about them--” 

Ginny raised her eyebrows. “Oh, the kids? They don’t need this shit either. They don’t need to be picking up any bad habits from you.” Fresh tears started pouring out of her eyes. “Leave. Please.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Draco was moodily watching television when the loud knock came on his door. 

_Who the hell could that be?_ Draco thought, padding across the room to his front door. No one ever came to his flat. He wrenched open the door, prepared to yell at his neighbor or a child for disturbing him, but instead finding Potter, Potter holding two suitcases, Potter with tears in his eyes, looking like a stray cat. 

“Ginny kicked me out and I...I had nowhere to go. I found your address in the directory, and I just thought I’d try to come over here. Can I stay with you?” Potter asked desperately. Draco was mesmerized by those tears, by his vulnerability. 

“Get in here,” Draco said, pushing the door open to allow Potter to pass through. He kicked the door shut behind him and led Potter to the sofa, pushing him down and conjuring a fire in the fireplace, then taking a seat next to him. “What happened?” 

“Ginny found out I’ve been lying about everything. She found my clothes, she found my corset thing, and then she confronted me. _After_ she forced me to eat seven servings of her lasagna. It wasn’t hot,” Potter said, catching Draco’s lecherous look. “It was uncomfortable. Then I...I told her about us.” 

“You _what?!_ ” Draco yelped, and Potter winced. “Why on earth would you do that?” 

“It just popped out! She asked what my _Healer_ thinks about my weight gain and I blushed and it just came out! It wasn’t planned,” Potter said grouchily. 

Draco groaned and closed his eyes. “Okay. Well, it’s out, I suppose. And that’s why she kicked you out?” 

“That mostly, but also because of how much weight I’ve gained. She called me embarrassing. And then...then she told me the kids didn’t need to be around me because they’d pick up my ‘bad habits’,” Potter said, and then promptly burst into loud, messy tears. 

At first, Draco was massively uncomfortable. Traditionally he didn’t do tears, emotions, vulnerability. The majority of his lays were quick, neat and quiet. His relationship with Potter, though, had been anything but those things. It was messy and complicated and _strange_ , and his heart suddenly ached at the sight of this man he loved distraught. It didn’t matter that Potter was crying over his wife and his children, and a life he hadn’t built with Draco. He took Potter in his arms and allowed him to sob into Draco’s chest.

“‘S okay, love. ‘S okay, I promise,” Draco whispered into Potter’s ear, rubbing slow, calming circles on his back. “You’ve got me.”


	9. Eating our feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry wakes up at Draco's, and Draco tries to make him feel better with a big breakfast.

The next morning, Draco sent an owl off to Healer Abernathy recusing himself from his appointments for the day, asking if he could cover. Abernathy said he would, and he hoped things were alright; Draco had impeccable attendance, and this was the first time since his joining the practice that he’d called off. 

He went down the hallway and into the kitchen, stopping briefly to admire Potter. Little had happened after Potter had sobbed into his arms; Draco had gotten him set up in the guest bedroom, and they’d both gone to sleep. Separately. It wasn’t what Draco had wanted, but Potter had asked to be alone, and Draco was nothing if not an obliging hostess. If his new houseguest didn’t _want_ to sleep in his bed, then who was he to insist? 

It did sting a little, though. 

Draco stared into the fridge and found little in the way of appetizing breakfast foods; at least, little that would satisfy his guest. So he changed into some clothes and Apparated to the grocery that was down the street and stocked up on foods he knew Potter would enjoy. Foods that Draco himself would’ve rarely indulged in, given his desire to stay the same size.When he got home, he began to cook breakfast, noting that Potter was still sleeping. 

Draco emptied his mind as he began to cook. Cooking was almost therapeutic for Draco; it was a finite set of instructions, which, if followed, led to something tasty and perfect. He cracked eggs into a bowl, poured them into a frying pan atop the stove. He whisked together the ingredients for French toast, and soaked some rich egg bread that he’d found at the store. Bacon sizzled beneath another burner, pools of grease soaking through the paper towel he laid it upon. 

He was so wrapped up in what he was doing that he jumped when he heard Potter speak from behind him. “Smells good.”

“Morning,” Draco said idly, starting to cook the sausages he’d bought. “It’ll be done soon, if you want to take a seat.” Potter shuffled over to the table, and Draco eyed him as he moved. Potter had changed clothes after going into the guest room, it seemed. He was wearing blue plaid pajama pants that looked much too small; his arse filled the seat until the fabric was stretched tight against the massive globes of flesh. His white t shirt was also too small; his fat stomach hung out from the bottom and it bounced with each slow, plodding step.

Draco ached to get his hands on Potter. He looked so much flabbier and jigglier than he normally did; Draco usually saw him in the office after several large meals, his belly having swelled and tightened with the food. He was empty, now, and his belly hung lower, draping down below the confines of his shirt and the waistband of his pants. His belly was less _spherical_ than normal, but this was...new territory for Draco. He wanted nothing more than to knead his fingers into it, feel how soft it was, pick it up and gauge how heavy it was...but not today. Not yet. 

Potter’s eyes were still puffy and red-rimmed from the night before, and Draco could tell he was still upset. It was natural for Potter to be upset, having lost his marriage the evening before, but Draco’s haughtier nature won out and he just wanted Potter to be thrilled that they were _here_ , together, outside of those four small walls. 

But he would be good. He would allow this man he cared so deeply for to be sad, and he wouldn’t try anything unless Potter took the lead. He would settle for feeding him breakfast. A large breakfast, if that’s what he wanted. Potter flopped down onto one of the dining room chairs, which creaked in protest. It was used to Draco’s lithe form, not Potter’s massive one. Potter shifted a bit, picking up the _Daily Prophet_ on the table with one hand and absent-mindedly scratching his gut with the other. It made Draco’s mouth go dry to see him so nonchalantly manipulating the flesh. 

Draco began to carry platters of food over to the table and set them down. French toast, eggs, sausages, bacon, fresh fruit and chocolate chip muffins. With a flick of his wand, two boxes of sugary cereal floated out and sat themselves on the table, along with a dozen bagels. Potter’s eyes bugged out. 

“You’re pleased, yes?” Draco asked, spearing a slice of french toast and some fruit onto his own plate. “Help yourself.” 

“You really cooked all this for me?” Potter asked, reaching out and starting to load up his plate. Draco watched in wonder as four slices of french toast, four sausages and four slices of bacon each made their way to Potter’s plate. Potter then doused the entire plate in warm maple syrup, and started to shovel the food in. 

“I thought you might be hungry, and maybe still a little upset, after last night. Thought this might help,” Draco said, eating his own much smaller breakfast slowly as he savored his first views of Potter eating. It was much better than he’d ever expected it to be. 

It fascinated Draco, watching his lover clean his plate. Potter ate methodically and quickly, pausing only to take long drinks of the orange juice and coffee Draco had provided. The French toast and sausage disappeared together, a bite of each at the same time. Then Potter shoved the bacon into his mouth. Grease and syrup splattered his shirt and the corners of his mouth. _He eats like a man who hasn’t eaten in days, not like a man who practically ate his weight in lasagna twelve hours ago,_ Draco mused, and fuck if it wasn’t a huge turn on. 

First plate of food sorted, Potter reached out with his chubby hands and grabbed two muffins, a bagel, and a bowl, into which he poured a hefty portion of cereal. He ate the muffins in two bites each, washed down with more coffee. He slathered the bagel in cream cheese and ate that, then, finally, polished off the bowl of cereal, doused in a fattening portion of whole milk. Once he was done, he licked his lips and eyed the food still left on the table. 

“Please, help yourself,” Draco said softly. “I don’t need any more.” 

“If you’re sure,” Potter said happily, and dumped the remaining three slices of french toast, bacon and sausage that remained onto his plate. More syrup drowned the food, and Potter set to work again. Ten minutes, three more muffins, two more bowls of cereal and a small pile of fruit-at Draco’s behest; Potter resisted but Draco quipped, “Do you want to get scurvy?” at him and he agreed-later,Potter was finished. 

He leaned back in his chair, breathing heavily. Throughout the meal, his belly had gone from that flabby, mesmerizing mass that Draco had ached for to the same tight, taut gut from the night before. Potter seemed to be in physical pain, his belly hitching with shallow breaths, his hands resting on the shelf of stomach in front of him. 

“Are you...full?” Draco asked, a superfluous question as the evidence stared him in the face. 

“It hurts, Draco,” Potter whined, sounding like a small child who had injured himself on the playground, rather than a fully grown man who had just packed enough breakfast for three people into him in twenty minutes. Draco rose from the table and squatted beside Potter so they were at eye level. He touched Potter’s quivering gut. 

“You seem to have overdone it. Do you want to lie down?” Draco asked, and Potter nodded.

“Yes, please.” 

Draco reached out a hand and helped heave his oversized lover from the table. Potter struggled to his feet and Draco helped him slowly walk to the guest bedroom. Potter’s love handle knocked into the side table as they moved down the hallway, and a piece of paper floated to the floor. 

“Sorry,” Potter murmured, and before Draco could tell him to leave it, Potter bent to retrieve it. The still air of Draco’s flat was filled with the loud _RIIIIIPPPP_ of the seat of Potter’s now-useless plaid pajama pants. Potter flushed and smiled sheepishly, and Draco grinned. 

“Oh, Potter, you continue to amaze me,” Draco muttered, and he squeezed the larger man’s arse. They continued to make their way around the corner until they were in the bedroom, and Draco appraised Potter. His shirt had ridden farther up, exposing the belly button Draco loved so much. 

“May I?” Draco asked, gesturing to Potter’s clothes, and Potter nodded. Draco tugged the tight t-shirt over Potter’s head, and tugged down the split pants, kicking them both to the corner. Potter stood before him, in nothing but his tight briefs, causing his belly to bulge obscenely over them. Potter breathed heavily just from their short walk, so Draco helped ease him into bed. 

“I have a stomach calming draught I can give you, would you like it?” Draco asked softly, and Potter nodded. He drained the potion quickly when Draco brought it back, sighing in relief moments afterwards. 

“Thank you,” he said, his eyes starting to drift closed. Draco’s cock pulsed with need, seeing Potter reposed on the bed, his briefs cutting into his fleshy sides, his stomach heaving, his face contented. Seeing Potter really and truly _full_ was a new experience for him, and he wanted nothing more than to hop up onto the bed beside him and ravage his porky body. 

But. There were still things keeping him from doing so, and he hated it. 

Draco turned to leave, his duties fulfilled for the moment, when Potter called out sleepily, “Aren’t you going to stay?” 

“Do you want me to?” 

“Draco, yeah I want you to stay. Don’t be a prat,” Potter said, his eyes half-closed with fatigue, ready for a mid-morning nap already. 

“Your wife left you yesterday, Potter. Pardon me for trying to be sensitive,” Draco said, climbing into the other side of the bed and lying down next to Potter. 

Potter smiled a little and took a deep breath, his belly rising with it. He looked like some sort of king or lord in an old classical art piece, Draco thought. The roundness of his belly, thickness of his thighs, and wobbly double chin conjured up images of decadence and lack of willpower when you gazed at him. It was sexy as hell. 

“ _Uhmph,_ ” Harry grunted, trying to shift into a more comfortable position but apparently feeling too fat and sluggish to do so. “Still hurts, Draco, just a touch.” 

Draco got up and straddled Potter in a way he’d never been able to in the office, so his mountain of a tummy was directly in front of him. Draco laid his hands on it and started to massage slowly, his hands deftly handling the bulk in front of him. “Did my poor love overdo it at breakfast?” Draco asked as his hands circled around Potter’s sides and pinched a generous handful of a love handle. 

“I think so,” Potter said quietly, his eyes starting to droop. “Draco, I’m too full to…do anything right now. Just wanna sleep.” 

Draco was a touch disappointed, but he didn’t let on. Ever since climbing into bed with him, he’d had fantasies of fucking Potter into the mattress. But he could feel how tight and rock solid his gut was, and he knew that he’d overdone it. He could barely move, let alone have sex, and so Draco would have to wait, and that was okay, really. It was okay to just be here with Potter, just be near him and help him feel better in a way that would never have been possible at the office. 

“That’s alright, time for that later,” Draco said. He removed his hands from Potter’s belly and rummaged in the side table drawer for a moment. 

“I shouldn’t have eaten so much,” Harry said, absently scratching his tummy. “What’re you looking for?” 

Draco produced a bottle of lotion and squirted some onto Potter’s belly, beginning to slowly rub it in. “That feel good?” 

Potter moaned a little, and despite his voiced concerned about having sex, his cock twitched just a bit. “Feels _amazing_.” 

“I’ve never seen someone eat so much at once, Potter...it was quite impressive, I must admit,” Draco said idly, continuing to rub. 

“You were right, I was...still upset about last night. I don’t usually eat quite that much. I mean, I _can_...but I usually don’t,” Potter said. “I didn’t used to be an emotional eater. Now whenever I’m upset or angry the first thing I want to do is stuff myself.” 

Draco leaned up and kissed Potter. “It’s going to be okay. Somehow. I know it.” 

“You don’t know it,” Potter said sadly. “I don’t even know what ‘okay’ would be. I don’t even know what we’re doing right now.” 

“Right now,” Draco said, rolling off of Potter and tucking himself into Potter’s body, carving out a space for himself, “we are cuddling in my guest bedroom. I just finished rubbing your tummy so you’ll feel a little better, and pretty soon we are going to take a small nap. Then maybe I’ll cook you some lunch. _That’s_ what we’re doing right now.” 

“Draco, you know what I mean.” 

“Yes, I do, and that’s my final answer right now because I don’t know anything beyond that. So let’s just enjoy what we’ve got going while we’ve got it, no matter what comes next,” Draco said, dropping a kiss onto Potter’s soft lips. 

The two men quickly fell asleep. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Come on, I’m just curious. Aren’t you curious?” 

“You’re _always_ curious, Draco, come on. Let me eat my sandwich.”

“You can eat your sandwich after, come on. For me? For that delicious breakfast?” 

“ _Ugh._ We just did this yesterday.”

“Yes, but _yesterday evening_ you ate a metric ton of lasagna and _this morning_ you ate so much breakfast I practically had to roll you to the guest room. So I wanna see what you weigh.” 

“ _Fine_.”

“As if you won’t enjoy this also.” 

Harry shuffled to the scale with a smile. Draco was right, he would enjoy it. Draco’s old bathroom scale creaked as he got in it; he’d charmed it so it would read more than the 250 pounds it was slated for. The dial spun, and finally settled. Harry tried to peer around so he could see past his belly, still rounded from breakfast. 

“It’s at 305. Three pounds in 24 hours, you’re bad,” Draco said, offering him a wicked smile. “Let’s get a little extra mayo on that sandwich of yours.”


	10. Comfort food

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry makes a tough decision.

For the next five days, Harry sat around in Draco’s flat, alone after Draco went back to work, and thought about the situation he’d found himself in, trying to figure out what to do about it. He’d taken the next week off from the Ministry; he needed time for a family matter, and they didn’t pester him about it. He had to figure out what he wanted, and then he had to figure out whether it aligned with what his wife wanted.

On the one hand, of course he loved his wife. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have married her and had three kids with her. She was beautiful, and kind, and loving. The things she’d said to him the other night were born from anger and betrayal. And he’d deserved it, he conceded. Of course he had. He’d cheated on her with Draco Malfoy, of all people, and deceived her while he gained over sixty pounds. She had a right to exchanging a few angry words with him. 

On the other hand, there was Draco. And despite what he’d told Ginny-how Draco was nothing more than a playmate, a fuck buddy, an inappropriate conquest-he loved Draco, too. He _loved_ Draco, with a kind of pure, blind ferocity that made his heart ache when he looked at him. Draco was so different from Ginny. Where Ginny was soft, he was rough, and where Ginny was fiery, he was laid-back. He loved Draco in a way he had never loved his wife, and Draco’s love for him was different from anything he’d ever gotten from Ginny...in a physical _and_ non-physical way. 

Harry woke up on his third morning in Draco’s flat, entwined in Draco’s sheets. They were facing each other, Harry’s leg casually crossed over his partner’s, Draco’s hand splayed on Harry’s tummy. Harry blinked the sleep away from his eyes, and found himself smiling. Draco was beautiful in sleep, Harry had discovered. His lips were slightly parted, and his whole face was softer. The sharp angles of his body that were often so intimidating during the day were smoothed out while he slept, and he just looked so...content. 

As Harry gazed at Draco’s face while he slept, he realized that his love for Draco and his love for Ginny resided in two different places in his heart. They were both there, at the same time, and one didn’t negate the intensity of the other. It wasn’t right, per se, but it was true. And Harry knew he’d never be able to convince Ginny of that fact. He’d never be able to make her see that he’d fallen in love with this man next to him while still maintaining his love for her. She would never see how that was possible.

Draco’s eyes fluttered open, and a small smile came to his lips, sending a shot straight through to Harry’s heart. Draco stretched, rounding his back, and then pinched a hefty handful of Harry’s flabby, empty belly. “Morning, pudgy,” Draco said, his voice still husky with sleep, a devilish smile now playing on his lips. 

Harry grinned. He was in trouble. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At the end of the fifth day, Harry was another five pounds heavier from Draco’s rich, fatty cooking, and he was completely content. It wasn’t so much that their entire relationship revolved around eating and fucking and Draco grabbing his middle-although, to be fair, it was a big part of it and it was one that Harry enjoyed. Draco was attentive to Harry. He listened as Harry waxed and waned about Ginny and how impossible she could be at times, how stressed out his job made him, how much he loved those kids of his. Harry listened as Draco talked about the stressors of his job, why he’d chosen the field he had, and Draco’s dark past with his family. 

It had only been five days, but Harry had gotten to know more about Draco in these last few days than he had in the previous months they’d been together. And he found that he liked everything he found out. 

Could he throw away an entire marriage based on Draco Malfoy? An entire life that he’d spent years building? It gnawed at him. 

On that fifth evening, Draco and Harry were sitting on the couch together. Draco was reading a medical journal and Harry had picked up a novel that he’d abandoned many moons ago. Draco’s hand was casually stroking Harry’s belly, and then he stopped and gently took Harry’s hand, squeezing it just once before just casually twining their fingers together. 

Harry knew, then. He knew that he could never willfully give this up, this life with Draco. He and Ginny could work out a schedule for him to have the kids. Their split could be amicable and kind. He would do whatever he could to make this as easy as possible on her. 

But he wanted Draco. 

“Draco,” Harry said, and his blond partner looked up from the deeply engrossing journal he’d been reading. 

“Yes, love?” Draco asked.

“How would you feel if...this became a touch more permanent?” Harry asked, gesturing at the two of them. 

“What does that mean?”

“I mean...I need to go talk to Ginny tomorrow. I’m choosing you. If you’ll take me, of course,” Harry said, fully aware that there was still a chance Draco could say no, he didn’t want this, he didn’t want a relationship, he just wanted someone fat to fuck every now and again who would leave at the end. 

“I’d love nothing less,” Draco said simply, kissing Harry and pressing his thin body against Harry’s fat one. They’d been polar opposites throughout school, and now here they were, many years later, still opposites in several ways. “Talk to Ginny and get the rest of your things.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day, Harry waited in a cafe for Ginny, trying to soothe his nerves by eating a few chocolate scones. When she finally arrived, fifteen minutes late, she eyed the empty plates in front of her husband. Harry had purposely dressed in baggy clothes, things that didn’t accentuate or show off his stomach, because he didn’t want that to be the purpose of their conversation.

“Looks like you’ve made a decision,” Ginny said, of course immediately steering the conversation to the one thing Harry had tried to guide it away from. “You’re still eating like a cow. I know what that means.” 

“Gin, I’m sorry. I didn’t intend for this to happen, you’ve got to know that,” Harry said, his eyes pleading with her to understand, though that was more than he could’ve hoped for. 

“I never thought this would happen to us,” she said softly, and Harry’s heart broke at her sad eyes. 

“Neither did I,” he said, and she just gave him a sad smile. 

“I genuinely hope that you’ll be happy. I hope that I can be happy one day, too,” she said, and abruptly stood up and strode out of the cafe. 

Their short conversation hadn’t resolved many of the loose ends of their life together, but for the moment, what needed to be said had been said. 

Harry went home then, to his new home in Draco’s flat, and let his lover feed him a big meal of chicken pot pie and mashed potatoes. 

“Comfort food,” Draco reminded him as he fed Harry a large bite of food. 

Harry knew he needed all the comfort he could get at that moment, so he gratefully opened his mouth wide for another bite, until his stomach was full of the rich food. His prick throbbed with need, along with the rest of his body. 

Draco took him to bed, delivering on the promise of comfort food.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short filler chapter that needed to be put in place. I have a longer work for chapter 11 almost finished, so look for that soon :) Sorry for my absence, I know I was posting every day haha but last week was really rough, I had a serious family emergency to tend to that dragged me away from my writing. Thanks for your patience :)


	11. Depression

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry struggles with his eating and emotions in the aftermath of his split with Ginny; Draco is worried.

Mid-morning light filtered through the blinds and bathed Harry’s face, rousing him from his nap. Harry blinked and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, thinking, not for the first time, that of all the things he’d grown to love about living with Draco, his mattress, thick blankets and pillows often fought for the top spot. 

He slowly swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat there for a moment, allowing his center of gravity to catch up with the rest of him. It took effort to heave himself up, and he slowly made his way into the living room. He flopped onto the sofa and turned on the television, flipping through the channels until he found a soap opera he’d grown to love over the last few weeks. They were airing some older episodes, and after he’d watched one of them he used a commercial break to go fetch himself a snack from the kitchen. 

As he made his way through the marathon of soaps, he also made his way through a few packages of toaster pastries, an entire box of Muggle snack cakes, and three microwave pizzas that he’d fired up, pacing himself decently enough so that he never felt stuffed, or even full. Once his soaps were over, he moved onto the large computer in the corner of the living room and booted up his favorite computer game. 

While indulging in his computer game, he continued his mindless snacking, having moved on to potato chips, sandwiches and cereal. Over the next couple of hours, he ate an entire box of sugary breakfast cereal and two sandwiches piled high with leftover pot roast from a few days before moving onto the chips, which he happily munched on as he continued playing computer games.

Harry licked the salt from his fingertips and then tipped the bag of family-size potato chips to his lips, allowing the smashed remnants at the bottom to tumble into his mouth. He stood up clumsily and walked to the kitchen to throw away the bag and other wrappers that he’d left strewn about. He didn’t intend to, but out of pure curiosity he peered into the fridge; there was a large slab of chocolate cake sitting in there, moist and thick and sporting a good two inches of frosting. 

He glanced at the kitchen clock; Draco would be home in fifteen minutes, arms full, no doubt, with dinner or food to make for dinner, as had been the case for the past two months. He didn’t need to eat this chocolate cake, not with dinner so close. It’d spoil his appetite. _Dinner’s coming_ , Harry’s mind assured his tummy, which was still protesting that it needed more food. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fifteen minutes later, Draco came home as expected, two bags of food in tow, and found Potter sitting at the kitchen table, chowing down. He was taking alternating bites of the leftover chocolate cake from the evening before and spoonfuls of butterscotch pudding. Draco smiled softly. 

“Hey, chunk. You know what time I get home, you couldn’t wait?” He asked, setting the bags down on the counter. Potter’s head jerked up from the trance he’d gone into during his snack, and he looked all the world like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. A smear of chocolate frosting ringed his mouth, and a glob of pudding had fallen onto his shirt. Draco had learned in the time that they’d been cohabitating that Potter was a particularly _messy_ eater. 

It drove him mad. 

“I was just a little hungry,” Potter said thickly in answer to Draco’s question, swallowing the bite of food in his mouth. Draco walked over to him and straddled him, sitting on Potter’s lap and letting his belly bulge into Draco. There was barely any room for him. He lifted up Potter’s shirt and snaked his hands underneath, rubbing the dimples of fat gently and kissing Harry full on the mouth. Draco licked butterscotch from his lips. 

“Well, if you’re hungry let’s get that sorted,” he said, clearing away the rest of Potter’s snack. Potter looked longingly at the cake, but wasn’t disappointed for long. Draco set a plate in front of him with three hefty Monte Cristo sandwiches on it, a side of fries and a large bowl of chicken alfredo on the side.

In the two months since Potter had taken up residence with Draco, he’d become a regular hog. Draco had found Potter’s appetite impressive when he’d first showed up, but it was practically nothing compared to what it was now. It was almost impossible to keep Potter sated, and Draco had developed a routine of sorts to try to keep him fed and comfortable. 

Draco would cook Potter a huge breakfast before leaving for work at the clinic, similar to the one he’d cooked that first morning, and then help him back into bed, Potter’s belly rounded and tight, pushing against whatever clothes he happened to be wearing. He’d make sure there was enough food in the place, and then leave for work. On the way home from work, he would either stop by a restaurant and pick up an order, or he’d go home and cook a large meal for his love. 

Potter had attempted to go back to work after he and Ginny had decided to get divorced, but had quickly decided to take a leave of absence. Ginny had refused to allow Potter to see his children, and Draco knew he was very depressed about it. He spent all day in Draco’s flat, watching television and stuffing himself silly with food. Draco knew he barely moved except to go to the bathroom or to the kitchen to get more snacks. The lack of physical activity combined with thousands of calories per day had led to a porky Potter (an even porkier one than before, that is), one that had swelled to a size beyond Draco’s wildest imagination, even in such a short time. 

Sometimes they’d spend the evening watching movies, Potter too full to move. Many times, they’d have sex until Potter got too tired. Draco worshipped the belly his lover had grown, and Potter continued to enjoy the attention he was being given, and Draco imagined it was a welcome distraction from the absence of his children and his estrangement from Ginny. She’d told Potter that as long as he continued to gain weight, she’d keep the kids away; they had a court date coming that would surely overrule her ridiculous assertions, but until then, Draco knew Potter was depressed, and he was most certainly eating to try to overcome that.

Draco watched as Potter tucked into his dinner, eating as though the chocolate cake and pudding from moments before hadn’t existed. He ate his heavy meal quickly, as usual, washing it down with several glasses of soda. When he was done, Potter was breathing heavily and had the dreamy look on his face that Draco had come to associate with his being full. Draco started to clear the plates, dropping everything deftly into the dishwasher, and balled up the napkins and threw them in the trash. On top was an empty potato chip bag, boxes of snack cakes, cereal, and breakfast pastries, and the fatty trims of the pot roast they’d eaten the evening before. He looked over at Potter, who was sitting back in the dining room chair with his eyes closed and his hands splayed across his tight stomach, and a tiny nugget of worry started to creep into Draco’s brain. 

As Draco watched him, Potter burped loudly and excused himself to go to the bathroom. Draco watched him waddle and shuffle slowly out of the dining room and down the hallway. Of course, Draco enjoyed the view, but he couldn’t deny that he was starting to become worried. He was a Healer, after all, and he knew that what they were doing together wasn’t healthy by any stretch of the imagination. The _way_ Potter was gaining weight wasn’t healthy, and neither was his mind. He snuck down the hallway and followed him.

The door to the bathroom opened, and Potter jumped a little when he saw Draco. “What’s up?” he asked, and Draco looked at him. 

“Are you okay?” Draco asked, wrapping his arms around Potter and pressing himself tightly against Potter’s belly. “I mean, are you really okay?”

“What do you mean? I’m fine,” Potter said, absently kissing Draco’s forehead and pulling away from him, a gesture Draco noted and filed away for later. “Why would you think I’m not okay?” 

“Because, well...you just seem to be lazing around the flat most of the time, and you’re eating quite a lot, even for you,” Draco said, finding it difficult to meet Potter’s eyes. Potter’s cheeks turned pink, and he shoved past Draco and started to walk back toward the living room. Draco followed him, catching up quickly, but came to a halt when Potter abruptly turned around to face him. 

“ _You said_ you liked me this way, Draco. You feed me all these fatty foods and provide me with everything, and you said you liked that I was getting fatter! Now what, you’re changing your mind? You think I’m gross?” Potter said incredulously, his face now completely red. 

“Love, you can’t think that. I love every inch of you, and I love to see you getting bigger,” Draco began. 

“Then what’s the issue, Draco?” Potter cried. “Here I am, standing in front of you while you talk about how you love to see me gaining, and I’m bigger than I’ve ever been! I’m doing just what we talked about during those damned ‘exams’, and now you’re concerned about it?”

Draco held his hands up briefly in mock surrender. “I’m just concerned about how fast it’s going, and that you’re only doing this because you’re depressed. The key to staying healthy is continued exercise and eating at least _some_ healthy foods. You stuff your gob all day with cakes and pastries and potato chips and then yes, I feed you even more unhealthy food, and you don’t ever fucking _move_ , Harry. That’s the truth.”

“So?” Potter asked defensively.

“ _So_ , look at you. You’re standing here talking to me and you’re breathing heavily. Your arse is practically flat from sitting on it all the time.” 

Potter rolled his eyes. “So all that dirty talk about wanting to feed me until I couldn’t get up was just...what?” 

“It was me saying what it took to make both of us feel good, and you know that. Harry, I’m still attracted to you. You’re gorgeous and sexy, every inch of you. My concerns right now are mostly for your state of mind. I want you to gain weight because I feed you delicious food and it’s part of our life. You’re fucking sad and I don’t want you gaining massive weight because you stuff your face all day and sit around to avoid the fact that you’re depressed. I care for _all_ of you, not just your tummy,” Draco said simply, and Potter’s face crumbled. 

Potter stood in front of Draco, wearing nothing but his briefs and a tank top. The tank top had been too tight ages ago, and his expanded belly flopped out of the bottom, the rest of him very much like a sausage in a casing. His belly button gaped underneath it, and his briefs cut into his sides and resulted in an even more exaggerated view of his stuffed belly. 

“I don’t want to stop gaining, but I suppose you’re right,” Potter said softly. 

Draco moved forward and took him into his arms, the two men clinging to each other. Draco led them to the living room, where they sunk down onto the sofa next to each other. “I don’t want you to stop either. Maybe just....slow down a bit. I don’t want you to get sick, Harry,” Draco said quietly into his ear. He felt Potter nod. 

“I miss them,” Potter said, and Draco knew he meant his children; he muttered soothing things into Potter’s ears. 

“It’s going to be okay,” Draco said. “The judge will give you time with them, and when he does, we’ll be ready. They’re welcome here, Harry, I want you to know that,” Draco said gently, something he hadn’t yet told Potter, something he hadn’t been aware he would ever have to think about when he and Potter began their relationship. 

Potter smiled sadly. “That means a lot to me. I just don’t know what I’m going to do. But I’m sorry, Draco.”

“What on earth are you sorry about?” Draco asked, confused. 

“I showed up on your doorstep one night and just invaded your life, I just showed up and you never sent me away, and I have children and we never even talked about if you liked kids, and I just, I’m a mess,” Potter said, sounding flustered, sounding utterly devastated, if Draco was being truthful. 

“Potter, I love you and I will love and care for your kids. Whatever that takes, we’ll do it. If we have to move to a bigger place, then we’ll do it. But we’ve gotta get you on the right track so you can be strong for them,” Draco said, kissing him roughly. 

“And you,” Potter said.

“And me what?” 

“So I can be strong for you, too, so I can return the favor,” Potter said, returning Draco’s kiss with an even deeper one. 

“I won’t object to that.”


	12. "Dieting"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Harry embark on a healthier lifestyle, but refuse to let go of their fun completely.

The scale read 366 when Draco made Potter get on it later that evening, which was a gain of more than sixty pounds since Potter had moved in. It was a lot for two months, and most of it was because of Potter’s deep depression, but Draco still had to stop himself from ravaging Potter’s body as it was. He hadn’t been lying when he said he still found Potter attractive at this size; his flab was never something gross to Draco, but it was time to change things up, and keep Potter healthy, which was even more important. 

“You like it, don’t you?” Potter asked in a teasing voice, hopping off the scale and slapping his gut so it wobbled; then he winced, because it was still full of the greasy, heavy Monte Cristos and the pasta. 

“You know I fucking do,” Draco said in a low growl, his hands automatically beginning to caress Potter’s stomach as if magnetized, a familiar gesture that made both of them feel waves of pleasure. “But we’ve other other things to discuss, too.”

“I know, I know,” Potter grumbled, stooping with difficulty and retrieving his tight tank top from the ground and slipping it over his head, although it was almost comical in its tightness over his belly. Draco smiled and kissed him. 

“We’re going to be okay,” Draco said, taking Potter in his arms. “You might not like me at times but I’ll be doing it for your own good.” 

Potter eyed Draco warily. “Doing what?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The ‘what’ that Draco intended on doing was helping Harry to completely overhaul his life.

They laid in bed that night, discussing it. First Draco made Harry vow to give up his control over what went into his mouth; from now on, Draco promised, he would be planning each of Harry’s meals, breakfast, lunch and dinner. Harry objected, visions of his beloved snack cakes and chips gone. 

“I know what’s best for you, and don’t worry, I don’t plan on starving you,” Draco teased, rubbing the swollen ball of Harry’s chub with his hands. Dinner had made Harry full and sleepy, had given him a bellyache, and Draco was trying to soothe his pain. “You might lose some weight but not much. I like you porky. And besides, it might be nice, to have me around controlling what you put in that fat mouth of yours, wouldn’t it?”

Harry supposed it might be...and so did his cock.

Then Draco forced him to go back to work, which Harry didn’t _want_ to do, but could concede that it was necessary. He’d been living in sweatpants and t-shirts for two months, so pulling on his work clothes was an exercise in defeat. He’d chosen the largest clothes he’d bought at Madame Malkin’s before Ginny had found out, clothes that were several sizes too large when he had moved in with Draco. They were laughably small, his belly bulging over the tight waist of his trousers, hanging down in a low waterfall of fat. The buttons of his shirt strained to contain his wobbling flesh, bits of fat poking out in several places. The sweater he tugged over his head ended just above his belly button, exposing the bottom of his button-up shirt and accentuating the shelf of his low-hanging belly. With an embarrassed smirk, he left their bedroom and went into the kitchen, where Draco was cooking breakfast, presenting himself in all of his glory. 

Draco turned to face him and began to roar with laughter. “You look like you shrunk your laundry!” 

“Well, I haven’t worn this stuff in a while! What did you expect?” Harry shrieked. 

“You look so pudgy, love,” Draco said, abandoning breakfast for a moment to poke Harry’s belly through the gaps in his shirt. He then patted Harry’s tummy with a gleeful grin. _Oh, he’s loving this,_ Harry thought with a smile. 

“I’m not _pudgy_ , Draco, I’m rotund,” Harry said. “I’ll have to wear my robes all day...and visit Madame Malkin’s after work. What’s for breakfast?” he called hopefully, flopping himself gracelessly into a kitchen chair. He’d forgotten how tight his trousers were, and Draco guffawed yet again as Harry’s pants split along the seam of his rear. His face flushed and Draco kissed him as he brought over a plate. 

“Well, my little piglet, we’ve got an omelette with low fat cheese and tomato, some turkey bacon, and a buttered English muffin. Plus a little fruit salad,” Draco said, setting the plate in front of him with a flourish and a smile. 

Harry scowled back at him. “Ginny used to feed me some of this stuff! I want pancakes and a muffin,” Harry whined. 

“You sound like a bloody toddler. I know for a fact that’s more calories than Ginny used to feed you, and this is a semi-healthy breakfast representing more food groups than just fat. Pancakes smothered in syrup and muffins is nothing more than carbohydrates and sugar. You need vitamins, love. And remember, I control all of _this_ now,” Draco gestured to Harry’s stomach and the food in front of him, “so eat up.” 

Harry didn’t have to be told twice. 

He inhaled the omelette, grimacing slightly at the tomatoes, having momentarily forgotten what vegetables tasted like. He downed the English muffin in a few bites, then the bacon, and finally the fruit. All of it was washed down with a glass of orange juice which he claimed tasted “off”, only to be informed by Draco that it was reduced-sugar orange juice. 

He was grumpy, and he was used to eating more than this, but the food was good at least, and it had taken the edge off. The omelette had been large and there’d been quite a bit of bacon on the plate. 

Draco brought Harry a new pair of trousers and helped him into them, enlarging the waist a bit so they at least fit until he could buy more clothes after work. He then handed Harry a lunch he’d packed for him, and kissed him goodbye. 

“No cheating, I mean it,” Draco said, lightly poking Harry’s pronounced belly. Harry nodded, and left for work.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lunch was just as disappointing as breakfast. Draco had packed him two sandwiches on whole wheat bread with lean turkey, a bag of carrot sticks, and an apple. He was already having a shit day, his coworkers having noticed his increased girth despite his flowing robes, and were having fun teasing him. He’d found it hard to concentrate without a steady flow of the sugar and fat he was used to, and found himself irritable and missing his favorite snacks. 

Seeing his sparse lunch did _not_ help matters. Nevertheless, he found himself not wanting to push the limits with Draco the way he had with Ginny; he trusted that Draco knew what he was doing in this situation, and relegated himself to this bland meal. He wolfed down the sandwiches, carrots and apple, and looked down at his bulging tummy. He gave it a rub and a silent apology that it had to miss out on what it wanted, then went back to work. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry found himself in an even _worse_ mood when he returned home after work to find Draco in jogging pants, trainers, and a sweatshirt, and a matching set for Harry himself on the sofa. 

“It’s exercise time!” Draco proclaimed in a sinfully delighted voice, and Harry narrowed his eyes. In protest, he flopped his wide behind on the sofa and shoved the workout clothes aside. 

“You’ve lost your bloody mind if you think I’m going to exercise with you,” Harry said, reaching for the remote, which Draco snatched away. 

“You, my fat friend, have spent entirely too long being practically immobile. You’ve a serious need for some good old-fashioned physical activity. And that’s what we are doing,” Draco said, tossing the remote behind the sofa. 

“But I’m _hungry_ , Draco, I want dinner, not to do activity,” Harry whined, and Draco smiled again, wickedly. 

“You’ll quite like what we’re having for dinner, but you have to earn it. Come on, go change,” Draco said, heaving Harry off the sofa and handing him his new clothes. Harry was pleased to find that the sweatsuit was pretty roomy, at least, hugging his body and his belly just enough so as not to hide it, but also giving him room to breathe. 

He returned to the living room with a sulky look on his face, and said, “Where are we working out at? I don’t need the entire bloody world staring at me.” 

Draco simply led him down the hallway to their spare bedroom, pushing the door open and revealing a large treadmill and an exercise bike. The bed had been pushed to the far side of the room to make space for the equipment, and Harry was at least a little relieved that he wouldn’t have to parade his out-of-shape self in front of the world. 

Draco motioned for Harry to hop onto the treadmill, which he reluctantly did. Draco programmed the speed to be a slow walk, then hopped onto the exercise bike and began to cycle lazily. 

Despite the slow speed, Harry found himself becoming winded quickly. Draco had been right, his body simply wasn’t used to _moving_ , and within ten minutes he was full-blown sweating. Draco reached over to the panel of the treadmill and Harry’s heart leaped, certain that this agony was about to be over. Instead, Draco pushed a few buttons and the speed _increased_ , forcing Harry into a jog. 

It was a jog that would’ve left many people with a simple elevated heart rate, but for Harry, it was pure torture. His lungs felt like they were on fire as he gasped for air. His face turned beet red with the effort of the simple exercise. His belly bounced up and down with each step, heaving, trembling, making itself known. 

“I...hate...you…” Harry moaned between gasps, and Draco just smiled. 

After ten more minutes of jogging, Draco switched the machine into cool-down mode, bringing Harry back to the slow walk. After the machine powered down, Harry stumbled off and threw himself onto the bed, gasping for air and moaning loudly. 

“Oh, don’t be dramatic. That’s what happens when you stuff yourself silly and never move.. You’ll get used to it,” Draco sank down on the mattress beside him. “Now go take a shower while I finish dinner.” 

Harry took a long, hot shower, soothing his aching muscles, wondering what bland, mildly healthy food Draco had in store for him for dinner. Once he was finished, he dressed in clean sweats and a t-shirt and opened the bathroom door. He went into the dining room and was surprised to see a large spread of food laid out on the table.

“What’s this?” Harry asked, sniffing the air. It smelled _heavenly_. 

“It’s dinner, of course,” Draco said, coming in from the kitchen and gesturing to Harry’s seat. “Sit down.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Draco had spent some time cooking many of Potter’s favorites; he knew Potter would be hungry after a day of not gorging himself and exercising for the first time in who knew how long. Potter sank down into his seat, and Draco dragged his chair over in front of him.

“First thing’s first, this has to go,” Draco muttered, tugging Potter’s t-shirt off and revealing his belly, not bloated, not firm, just a mass of flab and indulgence. Potter’s belly growled, and Potter laid his hands on it. 

Draco then reached over to the tray of food and grabbed a large bowl, then brought a steaming spoonful of cheddar broccoli soup to Potter’s waiting lips. Potter smiled as the creamy, warm soup slid into his stomach, then raised his eyebrows. 

“This tastes...like something I shouldn’t be eating on my new ‘diet’,” Potter said, raising his fingers in air quotes. He opened his mouth as Draco shoved in another spoonful. Draco kissed him deeply, licking the last remains of the rich soup from the corners of Potter’s lips. 

“You were good all day...you exercised...I feel like the last meal of the day you can indulge,” Draco said, sliding his eyes down to Potter’s gut. The gleam in his eyes betrayed him, and he could tell that Potter was aware of what he was thinking: this was a compromise, a way for Draco to feel better about what they were doing. Potter would be eating healthy, Potter would be exercising, but at night...at night, they could _both_ give in to temptation. At least sometimes. 

Draco fed Potter spoonful after spoonful of warm soup, occasionally partaking himself from the same bowl. Draco swirled some soft dinner rolls into their soup, pushing the warm bread into Potter’s eager mouth. When the soup was gone, Draco set the bowl aside and pulled a plate close.

The plate was piled high with enough prime rib to feed 5 people easily. Potter licked his lips and Draco cut a bite, spearing it with his fork. 

“Do you want this?” He asked Potter lazily, waving the fork in his direction as if he was uninterested. 

“Yes,” Potter said eagerly, sitting up straighter and opening his mouth obediently. 

Draco brought the fork to Potter’s mouth and then, at the last moment jerked it away. Potter was visibly irritated. 

“Come on, Draco,” Potter said impatiently, and his mouth dropped open when Draco ate the bite of meat himself. 

“Oh, I’m sorry! You _did_ say you wanted it, my apologies,” Draco said silkily, slicing into the meat and loading up his fork with another morsel. Again, Potter’s mouth opened and again, the bite of food vanished into Draco’s mouth instead. He repeated this process for the next five minutes, putting away an entire slab of the meat into himself, vastly enjoying the look of indignation and exasperated sighs coming from Potter’s direction. 

His cock was at attention, pressing against his slim-fit jeans, demanding to be paid attention to. 

Finally, Draco decided that he’d taunted Potter enough, and began to feed the prime rib to him. There was still more than enough to satiate his lover, and Potter ate it as Draco fed it, methodically, slowly. As Potter was fed, as Potter got fuller, he too got rock hard.

“You better eat all of this, porky,” Draco growled, shoving bites into Potter’s mouth at a quicker pace. “I make the rules, remember?” 

“You make the rules,” Potter answered, his mouth full. “I remember, Draco.”

When the prime rib was finished, Potter was flushed. It had been an awful lot, Draco reasoned, but he knew that Potter’s belly could handle more. He pulled over a bowl of macaroni and cheese, thick and creamy and covered in a layer of melted cheese on top. 

“Draco, I--” Potter said, biting his lip, laying a hand on his already-swollen belly. 

“Hey. I make the rules, and you’re eating every last morsel,” Draco said, the gleam returning to his eye as he dragged his chair closer. He rubbed Potter’s gut as he fed him bites of the mac and cheese, and as they neared the end of the bowl, his hand went south, slipping into Potter’s pants. 

Potter moaned when he finished eating, his gut heaving and quivering with each breath. He was full, Draco thought, totally full and solid. He looked slightly drunk, his eyes glazed over and dreamy. _Perfect._

“I want to fuck you,” Draco said, his voice husky and his hand still in Potter’s pants. 

Potter nodded, and Draco helped him up and led him to their room. Draco undressed Potter, sliding his sweatpants and tight briefs down; Potter undressed him similarly. 

A part of Draco would never be able to get over what it was like being naked with Harry Potter, no matter how many times they’d been intimate. Potter’s body was fucking beautiful, if Draco was being honest, and he loved every inch of it. Sure, sure, his belly was the main object of his affections, but his arse was amazing, and his love handles were adorable. He was smitten by Potter’s chubby cheeks, so round and innocent, and even the tiny mounds of fat that had grown on his chest, forming tiny man-boobs that he knew Potter was embarrassed by. It didn’t hurt that his cock was magnificent, too. Right now it was fully erect, and Draco’s own cock throbbed when he noticed that Potter’s gut had now grown so large that it half-obscured his nether regions. 

“You look like a prize-winning hog, Potter,” Draco said, tracing his finger down the curve of Potter’s tightly-packed tummy. “If I entered you in a county fair, you’d fetch me a fortune.” 

Potter relaxed his stomach, and it bulged out farther. “Not nice, calling me a hog.” He gathered Draco in his arms and kissed him madly, their tongues meeting together. 

“Shut up, get in bed,” Draco said, climbing in after Potter.

“I’m awfully full, Draco,” Potter murmured lightly. 

“That’s the fun of it,” Draco muttered, taking Potter’s cock in his mouth suddenly. 

Potter moaned, his back arched, his hands grasped. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

A thought, bright and brilliant, popped into Harry’s mind through the haze of pleasure he was in as Draco took his cock into his mouth.

_I could get used to this diet._


	13. End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry fights for his kids; Draco reflects on their lives.

Weeks went by, and Harry and Draco fell into the comfortable new life they’d built together. Weekdays were spent working and eating meals that were not always entirely low-calorie, but certainly more balanced than Harry had been used to eating. They worked out together in the evenings, Harry pushing himself as little as possible but still working up a decent sweat. On the weekends, they indulged in both food and sex, both men’s plates piled high with decadent meals and treats. It was a routine that worked for them, a routine they both enjoyed. 

But as the weeks went by, Harry’s court date continued to approach, and they both had begun to feel nervous about it. Harry was nervous that the judge would rule in Ginny’s favor. He was worried that the judge would see portly Harry Potter, standing in the courtroom looking like the Fat Lady from the entrance to Gryffindor Tower, and decide that Ginny was correct, his children were better off without a father who would model these bad habits for them. 

It would kill him, he knew. He couldn’t live without his children. He was already going mad, wondering what they were up to, wondering if they missed him. A low burning anger had begun to simmer deep inside of him; he couldn’t believe that the wife he had loved and cherished (aside from the whole ‘affair with his Healer who wanted to fatten him up’ thing) could keep their kids from him. 

Draco, on the other hand, was worried about what would happen if the judge sided with Harry. He wasn’t _hoping_ that Ginny would win, of course, he knew how devastated Harry would be. But he had taken to looking around the flat he shared with Harry, and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out where they would put three children. Two bedrooms, one bathroom, a living space, a dining room, and a kitchen comprised the entire thing. 

They’d have to move, there was no way around it. 

And say they moved, what then? Children were _permanent_ , and real, and very needy. Even if they weren’t Draco’s, he’d still be around them a lot. And they’d only been together for a few months, less than six, and was he ready to take this on? 

And then, just when he was at the height of his silent freak out, he’d look over, and there would be Harry, smiling and grabbing his hand because he could _feel_ Draco’s anxiety coming off of him in waves. Harry would rub small circles on his back and say nothing, which was exactly what Draco needed. 

_I couldn’t give him up if I tried, kids or not,_ Draco thought one night as they laid in bed, watching Harry sleep. Those green eyes were closed, and he could faintly see the outline of his scar in the moonlight. Harry’s soft snores filled their bedroom, and Draco smiled. 

“We’re looking for a new house,” Draco announced the next morning over breakfast, and Harry looked up from his eggs. 

“A new house?” Harry asked quizzically. 

“There’s no room for the kids here. That’s going to be the first thing they ask about, so we need a new place to live,” Draco said, stirring cream into his coffee vigorously, his eyes meeting Harry’s. Meanwhile, Harry’s heart was melting. 

“Are you sure?” Harry asked quietly, and Draco nodded immediately. 

“I’m in this, Potter, I bloody told you that. We’ll start looking tonight,” Draco said, continuing to eat his breakfast, pretending like he hadn’t just given Harry what every person longed for-stability. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The morning of Harry’s court date dawned bright and early, and he rolled out of his and Draco’s bed. Coincidentally, it would be his last wake-up in their flat; Draco and Harry had closed on their new house three weeks prior, and had spent the last few weeks painting and picking out furniture and packing up boxes to move. They’d found a spacious five bedroom, three bathroom home outside of Godric’s Hollow, close to where he’d lived with Ginny but not too close. The price was right, the location was right, and now all the empty rooms needed was their family to fill them. 

Harry was nervous as all hell as he showered. He toweled himself off after and found himself appraising his body in the mirror. Harry’s weight had stabilized quickly after Draco had started cooking mostly healthy meals for him, and his legs were certainly more muscular from the exercise. With the pressures of house hunting, purchasing, and packing, he’d been even more active than normal and it had prevented the decadent food from settling on his already-expanded waistline. He ran his hands over his belly, and for the first time noticed how much smaller he looked than he had a few months back. He wasn’t thin by any stretch of the imagination, but he was definitely smaller. 

He hopped on the scale out of curiosity and was shocked when the number landed on 335. He’d lost thirty-one of the sixty or so pounds he’d put on over the two months that he’d sat at home. He supposed the smaller he was, the better, when it came to Ginny and the courts at least, but he couldn’t deny that he was a little sad at his losses. 

He sauntered into their bedroom, where Draco was rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and stuck his belly out. “Look how much weight I’ve lost!” he cried in half-joking, half-serious anguish. 

Draco cocked his head and admired Harry’s naked body. “You have lost some weight.”

“Thirty pounds!” He cried, jiggling his belly. “I’m practically disappearing!” 

Draco laughed and stood from the bed, running his hands down Harry’s sides and squeezing his love handles. “You’ve still got a few inches to pinch so you’re still in shape, I’d say,” Draco said, kissing Harry. “You nervous?” 

“Yeah,” Harry muttered, kissing Draco back and then pulling away, rummaging around in the dresser for underwear. 

Draco placed a reassuring hand on Harry’s shoulder and squeezed tightly. “Gonna be okay. We can do this.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry’d purchased a new suit for the occasion, and as he looked in the mirror, he reckoned he looked pretty good. Almost slim, when you compared this Harry to the one from a few months back. Of course, he knew Ginny would just see her obese ex-husband, grown even fatter than he’d been when they’d split, and she would be disgusted. He found he didn’t give a rat’s behind about what she thought, though. He felt _good_ , truth be told. 

All he cared about was getting his children back, and Draco. Their life was none of her business, and he was a fine father when he was allowed to be one. 

He repeated those words in his head over and over as he and Draco made his way to the courthouse, squeezing Draco’s hand tightly, saying nothing aloud. His nerves were rattling something fierce, and he almost threw up twice. 

When they entered the courtroom, hand in hand, Harry’s heart thudded when he saw Ginny. She was seated casually on her side of the courtroom, her lawyer beside her. _She’s beautiful,_ Harry thought, trying to push aside the thought that felt like a betrayal to Draco. Odd, that a thought of his wife would now feel like a betrayal to his lover, the man he’d betrayed her with. _Sometimes things come full circle,_ he mused. She was dressed in a smart navy-blue suit, her hair shorter than he remembered it being, and when he and Draco entered, she turned and gave him a look of contempt. 

Harry unconsciously sucked in his gut, even though this suit had been tailored to his size and fit impeccably. When he was around Ginny, he always felt like a teenager with body issues. She made him feel huge, and he hated it. It was a weird sensation, as a man whose boyfriend spent many moments a week worshipping his tummy and praising him for the rolls of fat at his waist. It was so strange for one person’s view of his fat to make him feel less-than-human and another’s to cause waves of pleasure throughout his body. 

_Such is life,_ he thought, nervously tugging on his suit jacket. Draco saw the small gesture and squeezed Harry’s hand. 

“You look brilliant. Relax. I’ll be right behind you,” Draco whispered surreptitiously in Harry’s ear, taking his seat quite literally behind Harry in the gallery of the courtroom. Harry sank down beside his lawyer, shaking his hand. 

The proceedings began. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Draco had to stop himself from making a scene. Her eyes blazed with hatred for the two of them, and she and her two-bit lawyer threw every punch they could to try to make Harry (and, subsequently, Draco) seem like unfit parents. 

The arguments mostly boiled down to Ginny lamenting the way she’d been treated, and how no man with any moral character-an essential part of parenthood, she reasoned-would do that to his wife. She asserted that Potter hadn’t even _seen_ his children since he’d moved out several months before.

“She won’t _let me_ see them!” Potter cried out at that, and Draco’s heart broke for him. “I’ve been begging, sir, and she won’t let me see them at all.” 

Potter’s lawyer detailed the many ways in which Harry-and, again, subsequently Draco- were ready to welcome Potter’s children into their lives. He extolled the virtues of their new home and steady jobs, glossing over the fact that they hadn’t been dating for more than six months at that point. Ginny’s lawyer, however, pointed that out quickly. 

Potter’s lawyer followed up with the fact that Ginny would undeniably someday find someone else she’d want to spend her time with, and how would that be any different from Harry and Draco? 

Finally, as things wound to a close, Ginny presented her final blow, her final piece of what she considered to be ‘evidence’ that Potter shouldn’t have his children. Her lawyer went on about Potter’s health, more specifically the lack of concern Potter appeared to have for his health, and what kind of detrimental influence that could have on his children.

Draco was enraged. The amount of time he and Potter had recently devoted to Potter’s physical and emotional health had been significant. Sure, they still indulged their appetites, but they had worked hard to balance their life between those indulgences and building an actual life together. Ginny was trying to make a mockery of that and he didn’t appreciate it. Potter didn’t either, if the creeping flush on the back of his neck was any indication. 

Potter’s lawyer started to interject, but Potter cut him off, speaking to the judge himself. “Yes, I have gained weight over the past year. I’ve been taking steps to keep myself as healthy as possible and have recently even _lost_ some weight. More importantly, there is nothing I care about more than keeping my children safe and healthy and I would never intentionally pass on any ‘bad habits’ to them. Sir, being fatter than my ex-wife would prefer doesn’t make me a bad father.” 

Potter threw a look of contempt at Ginny, and Draco could tell from the smoldering look on his face that he was equal parts furious and embarrassed that he’d had to defend his waistline in a courtroom. Potter folded his arms petulantly and his lawyer gave him a dirty look for talking out of turn. Ginny turned and frowned at Potter, and caught Draco’s eye in doing so. 

Draco felt a wide grin slip onto his face; he couldn’t help it. He had a good feeling about this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“ _Daddy!_ ” James and Albus ran across the living room and crashed into their father’s arms. Ginny stood back, holding Lily in her arms, a stony look set on her face. Harry squeezed his sons tightly and kissed them. 

“I missed you so much,” he said, feeling tears well in his eyes, trying to shove them aside. Getting emotional wouldn’t make this situation easier. 

“Do you have things for them? Clothes, toothbrushes, toys?” Ginny asked woodenly from her place across the room. 

“It’s all sorted. Draco and I--we’ve got everything. They’ll be all set,” Harry said quickly, reasoning that bringing up Draco would be another thing that wouldn’t make this any easier. Harry took a deep breath and walked over to Ginny, smiling as he did so because his boys- _his boys_ -were clinging to his trouser legs as he went. “Can I--?” he asked, holding his arms out for Lily. 

Ginny handed over Lily, and Harry watched with sadness as her face crumpled. He snuggled his daughter, kissing her forehead, hugging her tight, and tried not to notice as tears coursed down Ginny’s face. 

“I know how hard this is for you,” he said softly, looking down at the boys, who still clung to him. Lily had settled into her old familiar spot in Harry’s arms. He felt better than he’d felt in ages, but he knew that in doing so, it was crushing Ginny. It didn’t make this wrong, his taking them, but it did make it complicated. 

Ginny took a long, shuddery breath and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m sorry I kept them from you,” she blurted out. “It was wrong and I’ve just felt so ashamed of myself lately. Especially now. They need you.” 

Harry smiled at her in gratitude. “I’m sorry that I hurt you. I’m so sorry for how it all went down. You didn’t deserve it, you were a great wife and you’re a great mother.” 

“Thanks,” she murmured. 

There was a long pause, in which a thousand things were exchanged without either of them saying a word. Finally, Harry cleared his throat and offered her another tremulous smile. 

“Well, we better be off. See you in a week. Boys, give Mommy a kiss,” he said, nudging James and Albus over to Ginny. He handed Lily back to her momentarily so she could kiss her goodbye, too. 

Harry headed back to his house, back to Draco, his three kids in tow, ready to start fresh.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Two years later_

Draco leaned over and deftly cut Lily’s pot roast up; she picked up her fork and shoved a messy bite into her mouth. “Mmm!” she crowed, and Draco smiled.

“James, Albus, _quit it_ ,” Harry said, throwing the evil eye at his sons, who were busy messing with each other. “Hands to yourself, eat your dinner.” 

It had been two years since Harry won shared custody of his children, and as much as things had become chaotic, Draco couldn’t deny that he was happier at this point in his life than he had ever been. His practice with Healer Abernathy was booming; his relationship with Harry was fulfilling and hot and _right_ ; and he’d fallen in love with James, Albus and Lily. Their house was fuller because of it, and, Merlin help him, when Harry had brought up the idea of them having a child of their own someday, he hadn’t immediately balked at the idea. 

Having a child with Harry Potter was about the most un-Malfoy thing that Draco could do, and the idea of it was comforting. Their life was comforting, the opposite of his upbringing. It was nice. 

They ate their dinner, James chattering about his friends in primary school, Albus hanging on to his every word, and Lily making an absolute mess in her booster seat. Harry caught Draco’s eye across the table and smiled. 

When they’d finished their meal, they sent the children off to play and began clearing the table. Harry started to stack plates into their dishwasher and Draco walked up behind him and wrapped his arms around Harry. Well, he wrapped his arms around as far as they would go. 

Harry smiled and turned around, kissing Draco deeply. Draco’s hands wandered, slipping under Harry’s shirt and stroking his soft belly. The past two years had been chaotic for them both: Harry had received a promotion at work and Draco had been busier than ever at his practice, and then there was the children, of course. It had lead to less exercise than they both intended to get, though they still managed to squeeze some in. Their weekends of sex and rich, full meals hadn’t slackened, however. 

As such, the past two years had seen more weight creep onto Harry’s pudgy frame, something Draco was ecstatic about. He’d crept up to 370, and Draco admired the way his belly hung low and full. “You’re looking delightfully hefty lately, my love,” Draco whispered in his ear. 

Harry surprised him by reaching out and lifting Draco’s sweater, reaching out and pinching a healthy fingerful of fat. Draco squeaked, harkening back to their first encounter together, and Harry smiled. “You’re not looking very slender yourself,” Harry said in a teasing voice. 

Draco looked down in shock, laying his hand on the thick layer of pudge that covered his abdomen. All of the heavy meals that he’d fed Harry over the past few years had inevitably found some of their way into his mouth; he thought about every spoonful, and couldn’t believe that he’d been ignorant until now of the way it had all settled on his body. His thin, elegant Malfoy body was gone, and in it was this chunky imposter.

Harry pushed his hands through Draco’s and poked his stomach, which couldn’t yet decently be called a belly. “I’d love to see where this would go,” Harry murmured, and for the first time since his discovery, Draco smiled. 

“Might not be so bad, would it?” he asked, and kissed Harry.

_End_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all of you for sticking with this story. I had so much fun writing it; it's been a long time since a story just poured out of me the way this one did! If there's enough interest, I'd definitely be up for doing a sequel and exploring this thing with Draco, lol :) Thanks again.


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